


Exactly What You Paid For

by a_stands_for



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bath Sex, Blood, Breathplay, Chair Sex, Character Death, Comfort Sex, Doomed Timelines, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Het, Het and Slash, Hypnotism, M/M, Masochism, Mind Control, Multi, Nightmare Fuel, Seduction, Self-cest, Sibling Incest, Slash, Succubi & Incubi, Threesome, Topping from the Bottom, Touch-Starved, Tricksters, Voyeurism, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 72,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kink meme, obviously.</p><p>In which there are Kids, Trickster!Kids, and some trolls on an asteroid, and lots and lots of sex and violence happens.  Seriously, it's awesome.  Or terrible.  At least one of those things.</p><p>Mind the tags/warnings, they're there for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. See Me

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/10240.html?thread=17669376#t17669376). Basically, a request for the kids to meet the Trickster!kids, with lots of mindfuck and creepiness, but no gore.
> 
> There is art in this story! All art is by either myself, the lovely [Ferrrox](http://ferrrox.tumblr.com/), or both of us. The look for the Tricksters is mostly based on the designs of [Jizzybro](http://jizzybro.tumblr.com/post/10567884684) and [Marghy](http://marghy.tumblr.com/post/5164177398).

“You're on grist duty tonight,” Rose said smoothly, barely even looking up from the book she was reading as John walked by.

“Already?” he groaned, wrinkling his nose. Rose's lips twitched with amusement. “Can't we just make it Dave's job, permanently? He's the only one who's any good at it.”

“Suck it up and deal with it,” Karkat growled. “We all have to chip in. Unless you want to starve to death?”

“Noooo,” John assured him, hands held up defensively. “But what's the point? All of us combined still can't make as much as he does.”

“Where's your community spirit?” Jade chirped. “We're all in this together! Besides, we'll get better in time, you just have to keep practicing!”

John sighed. “But it was so much more fun when we could make _awesome_ things...” he trailed off helplessly. A round of sympathetic nods circled through the computer room. The human kids and surviving trolls had been living in the labs of the Veil for a long time now, maybe even years, and raw supplies had eventually run short. Though objects could always be deconstructed for their grist again, food was a one-way trip, and it had slowly drained their coffers. There were no enemies to fight, here in the void of space. That left only two ways to get more grist if they wanted to avoid going hungry: recycle some of the awesome, but non-essential, items they had thoughtlessly alchemized when they first came to the labs, or find other ways to make more.

Dragging his feet, John trudged down the cold metal corridors to the Alchemy room. The lab had only been equipped with a primitive alchemiter, but it hadn't taken the kids much effort to upgrade it until it was back up to par, and then make further improvements on top of that. Now all a person had to do was enter their cards or codes at the single control panel, or draw directly on the built-in screen. A life-sized preview hologram would then be projected, while the screen displayed cost, existing grist stock, size options, and images of other possible permutations.

Most important of all, though, was the grist-to-grist converter. It had become their lifeline. The only way to gain more resources now was to think up items so stupid, so _god-damn awful_ , that their creation actually cost _negative_ grist. They were usually grist types like Artifact, with ludicrously poor conversion ratios, but it was _something_.

So now, everyone took a turn at the machine each night, trying to create _better_ brain numbingly moronic items, before they could all be buried under the towering stacks of Dave's SBaHJ oddities. After all, they couldn't be recycled or it would defeat the purpose, and jettisoning them into space would be a dead giveaway of their location.

John plopped down in the chair that sat in front of the control panel, spinning around in it a few times before he got down to business. He had always loved the joy of creation that came with achemizing things, but Grist-Duty sucked all the fun out of it. Biting his lip with his over-sized front teeth, the Heir of Breath cracked his knuckles and began.

“Let's see, where did I leave off last time? Oh yeah...”

Combining a fake mustache with Rose's Bath and Beauty Wash had created a bottle of something called FULL-BODY ROGAINE. Not surprisingly, none of the girls wanted to touch the stuff, but its creation had rewarded their banks with 30 Pumice grist. Unimpressive, perhaps, but Pumice converted at a better rate then Dave's dumb ol' Artifacts. Perhaps he was on to something!

Bringing the bottle up in the computer's memory, John pondered what he could combine it with. He looked around for inspiration, but nothing came to mind. “Well, when in doubt, make new duds?”

FULL-BODY ROGAINE && God-Tier hood = HEIR OF HAIR

John stared at the rotating hologram of the longest wig he'd ever seen. Amusing, but no. Besides, like most of his attempts, it still had a positive price tag. Well, how about the other way around? He pressed the swap button to switch the way the two codes were combined.

FULL-BODY ROGAINE || God-Tier hood = Venus Razor

That... sorta made sense?

FULL-BODY ROGAINE || Smuppet = Long Haired Smuppet

Okay, that one was pretty obvious. Unfortunately, it still wasn't stupid enough.

FULL-BODY ROGAINE && Smuppet = PLUSH CATSUIT

John paused, staring for slightly longer than he needed to. He wondered if he could ever convince Rose to wear that. Inspired, he began searching through the computer's history for more items. It covered everything any of them had ever made or used, so there were plenty to choose from.

PLUSH CATSUIT && SQUIDDLE Shirt || MIDNIGHT CREW poster = SQUIDDLEWOMAN SUIT

  
[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11006903893)

John squirmed in his seat, eyes wide and mouth agape. _Oh god I HAVE to get her to wear that! Please please please!_ Only the cost of the thing was preventing him from alchemizing it right this very second. That and the fact that Rose would take one look at it, arch an eyebrow at him, and make a little _tsk tsk_ noise before walking away. But a guy could dream!

Maybe... maybe he could just kinda... alchemize a  _picture_ of Rose wearing it. For reference. Yeah. John's forehead wrinkled in concentration, trying to figure out what he could use to make such a thing. He picked up the stylus and began to draw on the control panel screen. Short hair held back by a headband; pursed, painted lips; an elegant body that was growing curvier by the day; these were the features that made up the last female of the human race (aside from his ecto-sister, of course, whom he tried very hard not to look at. And didn't always succeed.) He lifted the stylus pen and waited for the computer to process his drawing.

The most hideous caricature in the world stared back at him.

John hastily cleared the screen and shuddered. Okay, so drawing wasn't his forte. Didn't Dave take a group photo of the four of them not too long ago? For ironically sentimental purposes, of course. What did he end up doing with that? John ran through the achemiter's history again, on the off chance that Dave had used the photo in there somewhere. His eyes caught on a curiously labeled entry, so he pulled it up. Success!  _Let's see what this makes!_

SQUIDDLEWOMAN SUIT && POSE AS A TEAM PORTRAIT = FETISH VILLIAN SQUAD poster

John snorted with laughter. Oh god, that was too funny! All four of them were wearing a variation of the outfit, even he and Dave, despite the fact that it was obviously meant for women. He struggled to control his mirth and focus on the image of Rose. Oh, wow. Oh, _wow_. Surely it wouldn't hurt to alchemize just this one thing? Maybe he could cut the others out (damn, Jade looked pretty good too—NO! Bad thoughts!) and just keep the part with Rose in it?

No, better not. Not unless he could produce enough grist tonight that the cost of the poster wouldn't be missed.

With a sigh of longing, John set the idea aside and got back to work. What could he add to make this picture  _horrible?_

FETISH VILLIAN SQUAD poster && Betty Crocker Cake Mix = Licorice Flavored Body Icing

John's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.  _What._

FETISH VILLIAN SQUAD poster || Betty Crocker Cake Mix = SUGAR AND SPICE MAKES EVERYTHING NICE poster

  
[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11015070360)

Okay, now everyone's fetish gear somewhat resembled their outfits from the original photo, but in sickeningly pastel colors like a bunch of cupcakes. They even had bits of candy stuck in their hair. The sight churned John's stomach, but he had a feeling he was on the right track. After all, this item cost 10 Pyrite, which wasn't a type of grist that came up often. What else could he add? Perhaps something he hadn't used in a while?

SUGAR AND SPICE MAKES EVERYTHING NICE poster || Blue Ectoplasm = NANNAQUIN CHEESECAKE poster

_OHGODNO!_ John flailed, frantically covering his eyes and pounding on the swap button. Still shuddering, he cautiously peeked out between his fingers to make sure it was gone.

SUGAR AND SPICE MAKES EVERYTHING NICE poster && Blue Ectoplasm = Trick Haunted Painting

John puzzled over that for a moment. Was it referring to the way that eyes in paintings seemed to follow you around the room? But that was nothing special, no need for it to cost... 0 grist.

Zero grist?! John sat up straighter in his chair.  _I'm close! So close! Just a little more and I'll be in the negatives!_

Trick Haunted Painting && MAGNETIC WODKA = KILLER HANGOVER

“Why is that back in the positives, who the hell would want that?” he muttered.

Trick Haunted Painting && Mini Air Conditioner = SNOWCONES FROM HELL

Still positive.

Trick Haunted Painting && PAINTING OF A HORSE ATTACKING A FOOTBALL PLAYER = THE PAINTING THAT MUST NOT BE NAMED

_How can that cost so much?!?!_ In desperation, John began grabbing more than one item at a time to throw into the mix.

Trick Haunted Painting && WOLF HEAD TROPHY || Rose's Journals = HOMOEROTIC WEREWOLF FANART

No.

Trick Haunted Painting && Gamebro || Potted Plant = UNDEAD PIRANHA PLANT

Back to zero grist again. Yay.

Trick Haunted Painting && Transparent Magic 8 Ball || Bathroom Mirror = TRICKSTER'S LOOKING GLASS

John paused. Blinked. Removed his glasses for a moment so he could rub his eyes. Stared some more in disbelief. But the screen definitely said what he thought it said.

-500 Pyrite, -500 Blood.

With trembling hands, he decided to double-check the conversion rates on those two before he got his hopes up. Sure enough, Pyrite wasn't that much better than Artifact. What about Blood, though? Surely it couldn't be that great, he'd only seen it used once, for Jade's Dead Shuffle dress. Not daring to hope, John checked the numbers.

_Holy FUCK_. Blood was almost as valuable as Diamond grist! 

“I... I did it!” he whispered in disbelief. In a single item, he was going to earn more grist than Dave's SBaHJ items could produce even if he filled up every single room of the entire lab with them. No one would ever have to be on grist-duty again; the long hunt for an item that paid off was finally over!

“WHOOOOO!” John shouted, leaping out of his chair and prancing around the room with glee. He summoned up the Windy Thing for a victory flight, scattering piles of alchemized junk in his wake. Heart racing in his chest, he came to a landing in front of the control panel, lifted a finger, and savored the moment.

He pressed the ALCHEMIZE button.

* * *

“I wonder what's so bad about it?” Jade questioned around a mouthful of barbecue chicken drumstick. She stood in front of the freestanding, full-length mirror as she ate, studying its ornate frame with intense concentration.

The Trickster's Looking Glass had been relocated to the main room of the labs, the one that served as computer room, dining hall, and social center for its residents. When the humans moved in, John had insisted on adding a long table so they could all eat together. Though the others found it strange, it at least kept crumbs off their keyboards, so no one objected. Currently everyone was enjoying a feast, having alchemized all their favorite foods now that they no longer had to ration their grist. The mirror had been placed in the corner of the room for all to admire and examine. John was positively glowing with pride. Dave was extremely quiet and moody.

“What's it made of?” Jade inquired, circling around it again.

“Oh, uh, this and that,” John said nervously after he swallowed his bite of pizza. “There's a picture of us in there somewhere, and some cake mix, and a magic 8 ball, and Nanna's slime...”

“You put something by Betty Crocker in there?” Rose said with an arched brow. “I thought you were convinced she was the devil herself?”

“Well, I had to make it _bad_ , right?” he explained, squirming slightly. “Otherwise it wouldn't pay!”

“I guess that explains why the frame looks like bronze icing and sprinkles!” Jade exclaimed, pleased to have figured it out.

“I must admit to feeling a bit curious about these “icing” and “sprinkle” foods,” Kanaya said hesitantly.

“Perhaps we can make some cupcakes for dessert, so our troll friends can try them,” Rose suggested with a fond smile in her direction.

“Only if they're not from Betty Crocker,” John interjected with a sharp frown. Rose just smiled and shook her head with a small laugh.

“What's wrong, cool kid?” Terezi suddenly asked, flashing her snaggle-toothed smile in Dave's direction. “You've barely touched your steak. Maybe you'd rather have it rare?”

John turned to look at his best bro, who refused to look in his direction. “I guess I'm just not hungry.”

“Heh heh heh... I think _someone's_ feeling a little inferior,” she chuckled. “Johnny-boy pulled ahead once again, huh?”

“Wha—really?” the boy in question asked in surprise. “You were jealous of _me?_ The king of cool himself? Gosh!”

“Dave's _always_ jealous of you,” Terezi happily informed him.

“Shut _up_ , Terezi,” the blond growled, slamming his fists on the table and rising sharply to his feet. Upon noticing that everyone was staring at him, he hunched his shoulders defensively and stalked over to the transportalizer pad.

“Oh! Uh.” John quickly dropped the rest of his pizza slice on his plate and stumbled to his feet. “W-wait up, Dave!” His friend disappeared with a flash of light, but John followed only a few moments after.

A few moments was all it took, though. By the time John materialized in the Transportalization Room, Dave had already escaped through another pad. Determined not to lose him, he ran over to the pad with the logo of a scratched record on it: the one the trolls had created for Dave to send him to the corridors he chose as his own.

Another flash of light, another location in the labs. To John's surprise, though, Dave was nowhere to be seen in the long stretch of metal hallways. He must have chosen a different destination.

The Hero of Breath stood there for a moment, pondering. While he  _could_ go check out every transportalizer pad one by one, it was likely that Dave was already out of the corridors by now, meaning he'd have to check every room, too. He'd never find him that way!

Good thing he had powers, then. Closing his eyes, John summoned up the breeze and let it flow away from him, filtering through vents and halls and doors, an unstoppable force that could cover the length and depth of the entire laboratory in minutes, despite its size.  _Find Dave_ , he ordered the wind. 

Barely half a minute later, the air gusted playfully through his hair again. With a smile, John followed it trustingly to the pad he had just come out of, back into the transportalization room, and then to another pad. He came out in the stretch of rooms that they'd been using to store Dave's SBaHJ alchemizations.

The young man in question was standing there with his sword out, slicing the abominations to bits. He looked up, face unreadable behind his dark shades, and sighed.

“That didn't take you long.”

“Of course not! You and me, Dave, we're connected at the soul! Mere distance can't keep these bros apart!”

“If you say so.” He put his sword away in his strife specibus and flopped down in a pile of conksuck paper shreds. He crossed his arms and made himself comfortable, blatantly ignoring his companion.

“Um.” Silence stretched between them as John finally picked up the impression that his presence wasn't welcome. “Hey, is that like a troll pile? Can I join you? We can have a feelings jam!”

“Hell no, I'm not going to cheat on Terezi like that.”

“Oh. When... you two are moirails now?”

“Yeah, man, for a while. Where have you been?”

Yet more silence weighed down the atmosphere in room. John stared at his feet for a while, until his eyes began to sting. It occurred to him that he and Dave hadn't hung out very much lately. He struggled to clear his throat so he could speak without sounding like he was on the verge of tears.

“Does that mean we're not best friends any more?”

Dave finally looked up in surprise. John wished he had a pair of shades, too, because he was doing a very poor job of not looking pathetic in front of someone he admired. It was all those stupid teenage hormones' fault! That was the only reason his totally manly supply of mangrit was failing him.

“What are you even talking about, Egbert? Why wouldn't we be?”

“But aren't moirails, like, the BFF quadrant?” he asked, his voiced high and strained.

“No!” Dave exclaimed, rising back to his feet with one hand. “No way, it's more like the 'BAP' quadrant.”

“What's that stand for?”

“Behavior Accountability Partner. Trolls are fucking nuts, you know that. They gotta pair up just to keep from going batshit crazy. That's why moirails are always snooping in each other's business and want to talk about feelings and crap.” Dave came to a stop in front of him, and John kept his head lowered in embarrassment. He couldn't believe he was actually ~~crying~~ ~~shedding manly tears~~ distraught over this.

Strider lifted a hand toward him. For a second, John thought he was going to touch his face, but at the last moment it steered away and gripped his shoulder instead.

“Come on, Egbert. Our broship transcends all the quadrants. All of them. Generations from now, human and troll-kind alike will still be composing ironically shitty raps in our honor. We'll be the stuff of legends, man.”

John sniffled. “Then what was all that?”

“Oh.” He shifted uncomfortably, pulling his hand away. “Me being childish, I guess.”

“But why?” He finally looked up, quickly brushing his cheeks with his sleeve.

“Do you really have to ask, Egbert? Don't tell me you weren't sulking before about me being better at Grist-Duty.”

“No! Well... maybe. But I still talked to you!”

“Of course you did. You're our Friendleader, after all, as you constantly remind us. But what am I?”

John cocked his head, puzzled. “What do you mean? You're Dave. You're the Cool Kid.”

“What good is that?” he asked bitterly. 

The black haired boy gaped. “What g--it's more than good, it's awesome! You've got all the slick moves and the clever lines and the smooth beats and the sick fires! You've been wielding a sword since you were old enough to walk! What do I have, a hammer; oooh, it takes real talent to swing one of  _those_ around. And you're so  _fast_ , on your feet and with your words—you out-troll the _trolls_ on a regular basis! And-and-and, competing with you is the only reason I'm half as good as I am now! I try so hard because you're right there, beside me! I'd be nothing if it weren't for you, Dave!” 

A blond eyebrow twitched at the words  _beside me._ “You really think we're equal?” he asked, rubbing his arm. If it were anyone else, John would have thought it was a nervous gesture.

“Oh... well, maybe not _equal_ , exactly... but I swear I'll catch up soon, just wait a little longer—oof!”

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11128705175)

For some reason, John suddenly found himself in the middle of a very encompassing bro-hug. His hands fluttered in confused surprise before he finally settled them on his friend's back.

“I suppose,” Dave mumbled into his shoulder, “being the Lancer to your Hero isn't the worst fate in the world.”

“I have no idea what that means,” John replied, “but if it means we're good, then I completely agree.”

“Yeah, we're good.”

“ _Ohthankgod_ ,” he breathed, all the tension going out of his shoulders. Dave chuckled and squeezed him tighter. They stood that way for a while, basking in the relief of a crisis averted. Until John got restless, anyway.

“Dude, are you done?”

“Five more minutes.”

John laughed. “C'mon, man, no homo.” Dave gave an exaggerated sigh and finally released him, straightening his shades.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's go eat, I'm starving.”

“What did you expect?” John laughed as they walked back to the transportalizer pad.

* * *

When they reappeared back into the computer room, all heads turned to look at them. Or rather, they all turned to look at John. He froze, staring nervously from face to face. “W-what?”

“John,” Rose began with exaggerated care, the slightest hint of amusement mixed with _you're in deep shit now, boy_ evident in her voice. “What did you say that mirror was made up of, again?”

“Um.” His face went pale, with two rosy spots of embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “Just, you know, stuff. W-why are you asking?”

Rather than answer, Rose merely turned and walked over to the corner, stepping in front of the ornate mirror. Her reflection stared calmly back at her.

“Wh--”

“Give it a moment, it seems to happen faster each time.”

He obediently shut up, dragging his feet over to the corner of the room instead. Dave followed nonchalantly, stepping up behind his sister to watch over her shoulder. Jade was perched on the long desk that ringed the room, to the side of the mirror's heavy stand.

It didn't take long, just as she promised. After a few moments of nervous waiting, John blinked in surprise as Rose's image was obscured by a thick fog, even though there was none to reflect. When it cleared, something had changed.

It was still Rose's reflection. It followed her movements just the way it should.  _But it looked like the Rose from the Sugar and Spice poster._ Instead of a full-length dress, she wore a mini-skirt with thigh-high stockings. In place of a Squiddle decal, she had a squiddle-shaped cut-out over her cleavage. She also appeared to be in the throes of some kind of bizarre, completely opposite form of Grimdark mode. More like... Giddypastel mode. Her eyes stared almost vacuously forward, an empty smile across her face.

“Eep!” John squeaked in spite of himself. He clapped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. Now even Dave was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Is that an admission of guilt, John?” Jade asked, grinning ear to ear.

“Ah, nononono! I know nothing! It's just some freak combination of stuff, really!”

“I thomehow doubt that,” Sollux spoke up, lips twitching with mischief. “I took the liberty of hacking into your achemization hithtory. It'th laughably eathy to follow your train of thought through the recordth.”

John shot him the dirtiest glare he could muster, which was completely ineffective since Sollux was blind (and 'still had trouble with the sight-by-smell thing' whenever it was convenient.) Jade snorted with laughter while Rose shook her head with exasperation.

“Not that I'm not flattered, John, but I'm pretty sure we all agreed to hold off repopulating the troll and human races until our situation was a little more stable.”

“This has nothing to do with that!”

“A truer sentence has never been spoken!” Terezi cackled. John turned a vivid shade of red.

“Ah, don't be so hard on him, Lalonde,” Dave said, clapping a hand over her shoulder. “It's tough being a teenage boy with no prospects.” He leaned closer and and whispered softly into her ear. “We all know you're not really interested in him.”

Rose went  _absolutely stiff_. “What are you implying, Strider?” 

He snorted, disturbing the short wisps of hair that trailed against her neck. “A certain lady troll, of course.”

“Ah.” She relaxed. “Yes. I guess our constant stream of coy flirtations finally gave me away.” Dave chuckled and straightened up. The mirror chose that moment to fog up again, and he glanced at it in surprise. Rose smiled darkly. “Oh-ho! Looks like it's your turn, dear brother.”

“What? What do you mean, my turn? It's not just you?”

“Not at all. Actually, Jade was the one who experienced it first.” She grinned as she stepped aside, leaving Dave front and center in front of the looking glass. The fog lifted and the image solidified.

Dave's poker face twitched. “ _Egbert_.” 

“What?”

“Why am I wearing baby-pink girl-shorts?”

John froze, a look of mortified horror creeping across his face. “Oh,  _god!_ ” he whimpered, burying his head in his hands.

Jade burst out in giggles. “Oh, I have to see this!” she cried as she hopped down from the desk and ran to Dave's side. “Aaah, look at your hair, it's bright green!”

“Heart-shaped sunglasses? Really, Strider, you're taking irony to whole new levels. Also, that grin is almost creepy.”

“You sure you don't have something you want to tell me, Egbert?” Dave asked, eyebrows as high as they could go. A moment later and the mirror fogged up again to update with Jade's revamped appearance. “Huh. Lookin' good there, Harley. Nice dress. I like the coattails.”

“I guess it's interesting to see what I would look like as a blonde. But why do I look stoned?”

“Nah, nah, it's like you're being all seductive and shit. Smokey-eyed temptress with a... candy-cane stuck in your hair?”

“Why _do_ I have a candy-cane on my head?”

“Because ice-cream would melt? I don't know.”

“So,” Rose began slowly, “if even Strider wasn't spared this treatment... what will _you_ look like, John?”

The boy in question looked longingly at the transportalizer pad. “Don't even think about it, fuckass,” Karkat growled. “You can't run forever.” With a heavy sigh, John trudged over to the object of his damnation, where the others latched on to his arms and held him captive in front of its gleaming surface. He only had to stare apprehensively at his reflection for a few seconds before it changed.

Sputtering laughter quickly filled the room. “Oh,  _John_ , striped pink over-the-knee socks? Really?”

“At least I'm not alone in wearing short-shorts. What a relief. I feel more comfortable in our shared emasculation, now.”

“Oh look, we match! You've got a giant sucker on your head! And you're blond!”

The trolls crowded around the four humans, trying to catch glimpses between or over their heads. “Motherfuckin' miracles,” Gamzee murmured first, being the tallest. “The colors, man.”

“I believe I could construct those outfits in real life, should they be so desired,” Kanaya added with a smirk.

“Hell. No.”

“Not even for the irony, Dave?” Terezi asked with a grin.

“Nope.”

“That's not what _I've_ heard,” Aradia said teasingly. “It seems the future may prove otherwise.”

“Please tell me you're joking. No wait, don't even bother. You're joking. I refuse to believe otherwise.”

“You're being awful quiet, KK. Thee thomething you like?”

“What! No!!”

“Oh, I get it now. Would you like a bootht?

“Fuck. You. Asshole.”

“Ith that a propothition?”

As squabbles broke out around them, John stared mournfully at the mirror he had been so proud of only moments ago. No wonder it had paid so much to be made. He was never, ever going to live this down.

His reflection grinned impishly back, uncaring of the way he really felt.

* * *

By unanimous vote, it had been decided that the mirror, while certainly amusing, was not something they wanted to keep in the computer lab. Thus it was that, once the dinner feast was over and everyone had gone their separate ways, John found himself back in the hated Alchemy room, unloading the impressively heavy item as carefully as he could from his wallet sylladex. The last thing he wanted was seven years of bad luck from cracking it. He tucked it into the corner of the room, blocked from sight of the door by the Alchemiter, in hopes that people would eventually forget about it and stop ribbing him about the damn thing.

Standing back, he pouted at his cheerful reflection. He looked absolutely ridiculous. What was with all the pink, anyway? And those shorts! He turned around, staring at his backside.  _Oh god, if I bent over my butt would probably fall out!_ He grabbed at his pants in an attempt to tug them down a little, cover himself up more, forgetting for a second that he wasn't actually wearing those shorts. His reflection mirrored the motion, but somehow made it look indecently flirtatious instead of the embarrassed action it really had been.

John scowled. He could have swore that his reflection looked amused. He stuck out his tongue, and it did the same. With a sigh, he shook his head and crossed his arms. “What am I supposed to do with you?” he asked softly. “I'm glad our grist problem is solved, but... jeez.” He ran his hand through his hair, watching the blond John do the same around his lollypop. “I guess that's what I get for thinking with my dick while in the alchemy chair. Too bad I'm stuck with _you_ , though.”

His reflection grinned, put a finger to his lips, and _winked_.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11309212764)

While John quietly had a heart attack for a second, his other self turned and walked out of sight. John's eyes shifted to the side, almost expecting to see someone walk out from behind the mirror, but of course nothing like that happened. The mirror was simply empty, as if no one was in front of it to reflect.

“Wha-!” he started to shout, trailing off as a figure returned. _It wasn't him_. John's mouth went dry.

Giddypastel Rose, in all her mini-skirted glory, had just sashayed into view. She smiled coquettishly at him, leaning against the gilded frame as if it were a wall that extended into her side of the mirror, despite having just walked through that very same spot. She pursed her lips in a very un-Rose-like manner, flashing dimples he couldn't recall ever seeing before. He wondered if they were unique to this version of Rose.

“Um! Uh. H-hi,” he fumbled. Crap, he didn't know what to do now! She was _so sexy_ , and he certainly knew what he _wished_ she would do, but how could he possibly _say_ it? She was standing there, moving and smiling like a real person, not a picture. How real was she? The real Rose would kill him if he treated this woman like an object. His father would have been disappointed in him if he was un-chivalrous to a lady. John would feel absolutely horrible if he made a lewd suggestion and she was offended oh god she was removing the scarf from around her waist. 

Slowly. _Suggestively_. It slid like water as it flowed over her hips, trickling across her thighs and clinging teasingly to her legs as it rippled to the floor.

John swallowed. He made an embarrassing sort of whimpering noise, and the Rose from the trickster mirror closed her eyes in bliss, as if his reaction pleased her. She slid her hands firmly up her sides and over her chest, causing the cleavage that peeked through her dress cutout to swell in ways that made him break into a sweat. Pulling her hands away, she beckoned him closer with a curled finger, smiling mischievously. Flushed and confused, but  _oh_ so willing, John obediently took a few steps forward.

She turned around, posing in a manner that best showed off her curves, her head turned just enough to peer at him from under long, fluttering lashes. For the first time, John noticed that her pale green hair was just long enough to twist into a bun, held back by two pink needlewands. His observation was quickly forgotten, however, when she reached behind her head, found the zipper of her high-neck dress, and pulled it down a few inches. Then she rested her hands under her head and waited, watching him expectantly from the corner of her eye.

A mostly unintelligible stream of ecstatic thoughts blared through John's head. His blue god-tier pants were utterly useless at hiding the way she was affecting him. Fire roared through his veins and collected in his groin. To think he would have settled for a picture and his imagination! This was far more than he had dared to hope! He raised an arm that was shaking with nervous excitement and, hesitantly, touched the mirror's surface.

It was hard and cold, just like any mirror. For a second there, he had thought it might ripple or that his hand would pass through. His fingertips tingled, though, like a mild electric current ran through the looking glass. The lurid green energy that flickered constantly over Trickster Rose's body, like grimdark smoke, flared brighter at his touch. He shivered, but it wasn't unpleasant. John pondered over what to do next, not wanting to make the lady impatient. Figuring it couldn't hurt, he placed one finger over her zipper slider from his perspective, then trailed it downwards, tracing the line of her dress.

The zipper followed. A long narrow V of dark, reddish-purple skin was revealed, interrupted only by a band of the palest lacy pink.

At this point, John's brain completely gave up and surrendered to incoherency.

Trickster Rose slowly turned around, a hand pressing lightly above her breasts to keep the dress up, as it was already trying to slip off her shoulders. With her other hand she made a strange gesture; a finger sliding down, much like he had just done, but pointing at John. At crotch-height.

_Oh. God. Okay._

He fumbled at the zipper of his pants, allowing the tent in his Green Slime Ghost boxers to jut impudently in her direction. She smiled as he flushed, then made the hand gesture again. John gulped audibly, hesitating. He had the feeling that he had somehow leaped in over his head. Could he really expose himself in front of a lady like this?

Rose released her hold on the dress. With a little tug to encourage it past her hips, it quickly dropped to the floor.

FUCK BOXERS YOU DON'T NEED THEM

_Rose_

_is_

_gorgeous!_

The darkness of her giddypastel skin contrasted sharply with her pale matching undergarments. The fact that she was still wearing the thigh-high stockings and opera-length gloves only added to her erotic appeal. John didn't even notice at first that he had taken his exposed manhood in hand and was rubbing it with shameless enthusiasm. Fucking _hell_ , he was so aroused it _hurt_ , and the friction felt _so good!_ Trickster Rose seemed thrilled by his response, her green luminescence flickering like a roaring fire. He badly wished he could feel her under his hands, could touch and smell that flesh for himself. If only she were real! Or rather, really here!

She seemed determined to do her best, though. Eyes nearly closed with pleasure, she slipped a few fingers inside the cup of her brassier, tweaking what she found there. Her lips parted and he could see her chest heave suddenly.

John was gasping, himself. His put his other hand to work, pushing his pants down further until they dropped to his ankles, then gripped his balls. Moans were slipping unbidden from his throat, in between his labored breaths. He made sure his eyes stayed wide open, though, pinned to her form as if transfixed. Her bra straps were starting to slip, and her other hand was sliding down her stomach to slip into the little scrap of lace that served as a panty.

She wriggled both sets of fingers, and her mouth opened further with noises he couldn't, but desperately _wished_ , to hear. The straps that were barely clinging to her shoulders slipped down a little further. As she began to tremble, they finally lost their purchase and fell to her elbows. The flimsy fabric that composed the cups struggled to keep their shape without any support, but were losing the battle to gravity breath by heaving breath.

John felt the pleasurable tension building up in his groin. The heat of a vivid red flush was burning up his entire body as he pumped with both hands, bucking his hips into them and spasming as he lost control of his reflexes. As he watched, the last bit of fabric, clinging desperately to the peak of her stiff, rosy nipple, finally lost the battle and exposed her to his gaze. Those perfect, pillowy globes jiggled and bounced as she began to shudder, one hand twisting and tugging on a tit while the other rubbed in and out from between her legs.

Suddenly she went tense and hunched over, breasts swaying as she spasmed again and again. John couldn't take it a moment longer. He erupted, spraying splatters of white all across the lower half of the mirror.

“Oh, _fuck!_ Rose!” he panted, overwhelmed with euphoria. Aftershocks shook him as he squirted out every last drop of pleasure. His mind went blank and hazy, leaving him to wonder, minutes later, how he had ended up laying on the floor, his rapidly shrinking member still exposed for all the world to see.

Wow.  _Wow._ Just... wow!

He continued to lay there for a while before mustering the effort to get up. He felt absolutely _wiped_ , even moreso than usual. He managed to drag himself slowly and laboriously to his feet, finally pulling up his pants and making himself decent. He looked up at the mirror, wondering how Trickster Rose was holding up, but she wasn't there. Even his own Trickster self was gone, leaving only a perfectly ordinary reflection. It could have been any ol' icing-framed monstrosity. Its sparkling clean surface gleamed at him innocently.

Shaking his head, he walked unsteadily around the alchemiter and to the room's exit, lost in his own thoughts. He pressed the button that opened the door to the corridor.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11309367571)

With a start of surprise, John looked up. For a second there, he thought he'd seen... something. He wasn't even sure what, exactly, just a flash of dark red in the corner of his eye.

He looked up and down the hallway, but there was nothing there.

* * *


	2. Feel Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can mouse over Trickster Rose's speech for a translation!

“Kanaya. Perhaps I should have informed you of this in the first place, but cupcakes are not usually considered a breakfast food.”

The troll flinched guiltily, her luminous white skin turning a faint jade color. “I... was aware,” she said as soon as she had swallowed, giving Rose a helpless smile. She wiped a bit of icing from the corner of her lip and licked it off her finger. “But they are just so delicious!”

The human woman shook her head, exasperated affection plain to see on her face. “It appears I made a mistake, then. Obviously, trolls are not ready for desert items if they're going to be this addicting.”

“Hey, no making generalizations,” Karkat growled. “I tried them and hated them.”

“And earned a few points in your co-palhoncho's favor in the process,” Aradia pointed out impishly. Karkat scowled and turned away, trying hard not to blush. As if to add to his torment, John chose that moment to make his appearance upon the transportalizer pad, forcing him to whip his head right back.

“Good morning,” he mumbled sluggishly as he stepped down.

“Good evening,” Sollux responded as always. Since it was always night in the Veil, everyone was on the same sleeping schedule, but the trolls still called called their waking hours “nighttime” while the humans called them “daytime.” Sollux loved the duality, and made sure that if _any_ such term was used, then they _both_ were. Rose had finally resorted to using as few time-specific words as possible.

“Glad you could join us, John. It is always such a pleasure to be greeted by your cheery disposition at breakfast,” she said, watching him with slightly raised eyebrows. “Sleep well?”

John looked up at her, blinking blearily. He stared for longer than was necessary, then suddenly turned beet red. He quickly averted his gaze, staring at his feet as he moved to take a seat at the table. _Well. That was odd_ , she thought.

Another flash of light, and Dave arrived. “Sup' ladies. Egbert,” he said as he slid into his customary spot.

“Hey!” Karkat objected. Strider just smirked and ignored him.

“So... who alchemized the Rainbow Sprinkle Special? 'Cause you always struck me as as more of a bagel with cream cheese sort of person, Sis.”

“That would be our new addict,” she said, tilting her head in Kanaya's direction. “And I'll have you know, I prefer eggs and toast.” She gestured to her meticulous arrangement of dishes and silverware.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, reaching across the table and swiping a triangle of jam-covered toast before she could stop him. He took a bite, smirking as she glared at him.

“Go get your own breakfast, Strider.”

“Lalonde, if you really wanted me to stop stealing from your plate, you'd stop making enough for both of us.”

_Shit, he's got me there_. The truth was, she enjoyed giving him the opportunity to antagonize her, just so she'd have an excuse to interact with him. It was a twisted form of familial contact, exactly as the two of them were accustomed. 

Yet another person materialized into the room, but with entirely too much enthusiasm for the time of day. Night. Whatever. “John!” Jade shouted with excitement. “John, John, John, John, guess what!?” The dark haired girl closed the distance between herself and her brother in seconds, pouncing on his back and just barely avoiding slamming his face into the table. Rose felt a flash of something ugly stir in her chest, which she quickly washed away with a swallow of orange juice. She and Dave were simply too dignified for that sort of behavior.

“W-what, Jade,” John wheezed, loosening her grip from around his neck.

“Oh, gosh, this is so amazing! Your mirror! The mirror you made yesterday! I was looking at it again just now, and my reflection moved on its own! She waved hello to me and started doing her own thing, like she wasn't a reflection at all!”

John froze, for a moment wearing an expression like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. “R-really?” he said after she gave him another squeeze, looking rather pale.

“Yes! Come with me, maybe she'll do it again!” As she dragged him to his feet, Dave and Rose exchanged glances and stood up as well. The four of them made their way back to the alchemy room, Jade babbling the entire way. “Your invention just gets more and more interesting, I can't wait to study it in further depth!”

She led the party into the room and around the alchemiter, planting herself expectantly in front of the garish object stashed in the corner. Her reflection copied her movements exactly, still as colorful and blonde as it was yesterday. The others crowded around her, their own alternates doing the same.

Rose stared at the mockery of herself. It still looked just as annoyingly empty-headed and cheerful as before. “I see no independent movement,” she said bluntly after a moment of quiet.

“It really happened,” Jade replied, her enthusiasm diminished. “Come on, Trickster Me, don't be shy!”

“Trickster You?”

“Well it's called the Trickster's Looking Glass, what else should I call the people inside it?”

“They're just gag reflections, dear. They're not separate entities.”

Jade pouted, her reflection staring back with heavy-lidded eyes and a small smile that seemed almost smug. At least, until two fingers rose up sneakily behind her head.

“John, stop giving me bunny-ears.”

“I'm not!”

Her reflection suddenly elbowed Trickster John in the gut. He doubled over, coughing silently. It was impossible not to notice the fact that the real John and Jade _hadn't moved_. Dave's eyebrow's shot up and Rose stared. Trickster Jade rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking put out at the immaturity of her mirror-mates.

“Well,” Rose finally managed to say. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

Jade beamed. “See! They were just being tricky again. 'Cause they're tricksters!” She waved cheerfully at her reflection, who stared back appraisingly for a long moment before finally giving her an acknowledging nod. Trickster Rose bobbed on her toes like an excited child while Trickster Dave grinned widely as he waved back.

John snickered. “It looks like the Other Jade got all the coolness!” he teased, nudging Dave with his elbow.

“Of course. The universe couldn't handle another Dave as awesome as I am, that's why I don't time-travel anymore.”

“Pfffffft. Whatever, dude!”

“I think it's kind of neat,” Jade said, almost shyly. “Me being the Cool-kid. Hey Trickster Me, are you the coolest in your world?”

Mirror-Jade gave her unruly hair a little toss, calmly moving her lips but making no sound.

“Oh... I can't hear you!” Jade said, sounding disappointed. Her doppelganger blinked and frowned, rubbing her chin in thought. She glanced at her companions and said something to them, and they stopped smiling and looked alarmed. She turned to face them, making a suave gesture to the mirror's surface, behind her. They hastily backed away, hands held up defensively, eyes wide.

Trickster Jade turned around again with an obvious, if silent, snort of derision. Shaking her head, she stepped closer, pausing just before the barrier of the mirror's glass. She gestured the real Jade forward with a jerk of her head.

“Oh, wait, are you sure that's a good idea?” Rose hastily interjected as the dark-haired girl strode up to meet her reflection.

“You can't learn anything without taking a few risks, Rose! Besides, aren't you just the slightest bit curious?”

Rose grimaced. Maybe she _would_ be curious, if the sight of her Trickster didn't make her want to smack it upside the head. She watched with disgust as the gross parody of herself nibbled its nails in maidenly fright. She wouldn't be surprised if it collapsed from the vapors any second now.

Trickster Dave noticed her copy's discomfort, frowned in sympathy, and wrapped her up in an affectionate hug. She looked up at him with trusting eyes, smiled, and snuggled into his chest.

Rose... had no idea what to think of that. Nor could she explain why her heart-rate had just skyrocketed.

Trickster Jade shifted a little, blocking Rose's view and calling her attention back to the situation at hand. With slow, languid movements, she lifted her hands and pressed the palms flat against the glass. Puzzled, Jade lifted her hands up as well and, after an encouraging nod from her reflection, pressed them on the mirror too, matching them up with hers exactly.

“Oh! It sort of tingles!” she said with an excited grin. Trickster Jade appeared to chuckle, then closed her eyes in concentration. Nothing happened at first, aside from both Johns getting fidgety with apprehension.

Trickster Jade's lips parted in a disturbingly sensual gesture. Her fingers curled in between each of Jade's, and the dark-haired girl realized with some amazement that she could do the same. They were clasping hands _through the mirror's surface_.

The other Jade spoke again, and though it sounded very far away and muffled, it was finally audible.

_May I cross?_

Jade gaped for a moment, before shutting her mouth with a click. “Sure!”

Rose couldn't help but perform a facepalm. Did this girl have no sense of  _caution?_ Common sense? No, of course not, she grew up all alone on an island, raised by a dog. _Silly me, what was I thinking_.

The trickster tried to push her hands through, but nothing happened. She bit her plump lower lip in thought.

_Pull._

Obediently, Jade grasped her hands more tightly and tugged, stepping backwards. The mirror's surface had a surprisingly strong resistance, like pulling someone out of quicksand, but inch by inch a pair of wrists appeared, then elbows, then a pretty face set in an expression of smooth confidence. Jade grinned back in excitement.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11600540852)

When the last green-clad leg had stepped through and the final lock of blonde hair had settled on her back, Jade's bizarro-world twin stood before them in the flesh, breathing deeply of the air on the other side.

“'Sup, bipches,” she said as she took them all in. Her voice oozed from her throat like molasses, slow and thick. “Thanks for the invite.” The real Jade opened her mouth to speak, a thousand excited questions on her tongue, but the other pressed a finger against her lips. “Hang on just one second, sweetie. I gotta take care of something first.”

She turned and faced the mirror she had just emerged from. “Oy, chickenshits. I'm  _fine_. The air isn't toxic or anything, _jeez_.” The other tricksters exchanged glances, relaxing a little even though they obviously couldn't hear what she said. John held a hand up behind his ear. Jade pressed her hand against the mirror and said a little louder, “it's perfectly safe!” John repeated the gesture, an obnoxious grin on his face. She scowled. “Okay, now you're just fucking with me.” He giggled soundlessly. 

With a long-suffering sigh, she turned away and ignored him. Then she blinked, the only sign that she was startled to find her original right up in her face, smiling widely. “What?”

“I'm the daring one!” Jade giggled. “And the cool one! That's so awesome!”

Trickster Jade breathed out a single, amused laugh. “Well... yeah. You've got me there.” She looked around at the others, who had been watching the events of the last few moments with a mixture of dumb-struck shock and morbid curiosity. “I'm guessing you all are a bit different? I'm picking up quite a bit of swag radiating off of your Dave.”

Dave twitched, which was his equivalent of a full-body spasm of surprise at suddenly being addressed. “Naturally. Your swag-radar is in top form. You're going to have to learn how to turn that thing off if you want any sleep, because the swag never stops.”

The corner of her lips quirked into a smile. “So strange to see you like this. I've got a hunch you're going to _hate_ my Dave. He's such a dork.”

The dark-haired Jade froze. “Oh. Do... do you hate _me?_ ”

The blonde Jade paused, then turned her head _very slowly_. She eyed her neutrally, watching as she got more and more nervous under her bland stare. Finally Jade wilted under the pressure, staring sadly at her feet.

“Oh.”

Trickster Jade wrapped an arm around her shoulders, an almost condescendingly affectionate grin on her face. “I'm kidding. I couldn't possibly hate you! You're absolutely _adorable_.” Jade's cheeks reddened a few shades and she continued to stare at her shoes, perhaps in embarrassment. “You maybe wanna show me around? I'm afraid that mirror didn't get a chance to reflect too many places, so our world is kind of small.”

“Really? That's fascinating! So would your world expand if we took the mirror to more places?”

“Probably. But I'm already here, so why bother?”

“What about the others?” John asked, pointing at the mirror where three figures were making goofy faces against the glass.

Trickster Jade gave them a pained,  _please don't associate me with those losers_ sort of look. “You could just leave them in there to rot, if you want...” The other three tricksters pouted pathetically.

“Aww, don't be mean!” John whined. “I kind of want to meet _my_ Trickster, too! D-don't you, Rose?” He looked at her hopefully.

“Not particularly,” she replied, but in a voice that screamed _god no._ “Dave?”

Strider stared inscrutably at his mirror image. “Can't say I want to see my own ass dancing around in those shorts all the time, no.”

John pouted, then frowned in thought. “Well. Fine. But I'm going to bring  _mine_ through, so there!” He stepped boldly forward and took his place in front of the gaudy piece of furniture, his face full of determination. “Hey, Trickster Me! I'm guessing I'm the only one who can pull you through, right?”

The other John nodded, grinning widely as he pressed his hands against the glass. The first John did the same.

_Can I come out and play?_

“Absolutely!” he said with a grin as their fingers folded over each other's knuckles. One John pulled the other, and like stretching out taffy, the looking glass slowly gave up its captive until it surrendered with a snap. Trickster John collided into him and they both crashed to the ground.

“John John John John!” cried the one with pink striped socks, in much the same manner that Jade had done at breakfast. “This is so exciting! Let's play! Can we play? I want to play!”

“Sure, but you'll have to get off of me, first!” he pointed out. Trickster John examined his position, sprawled flat across his Original's prone form, arms wrapped around each other.

“If you say so!” he replied with a grin. With a gust of wind he floated up in the air, arms crossed casually as he hovered, feet over his head.

“You can do the Windy Thing, too?”

“Yup! I bet I can fly even faster than you!”

“Nuh uh!” John laughed, floating up into the air as well. “I'll race you around the labs!”

“Sure! Oh, but, wait...” he suddenly hesitated, looking back at the mirror. “Um... what about my friends?” Trickster Dave and Rose were staring at him mournfully, making puppy-dog eyes. “I can't just leave them there. I'm their Prankleader!”

John spluttered with laughter. “Is that you guys' equivalent of a Friendleader?”

“Something like that!”

“I guess me being the leader is a universal constant!”

“What?” Dave objected. “You get to stay the leader but I don't get to keep my cool? That hardly seems fair.”

“Aw, don't feel bad,” Trickster John said comfortingly. “You're the heart of our party!”

“Is that why I have a pink heart on my shirt instead of a record?”

“Sure!”

Dave gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “Fine, whatever. I guess half of you are over, might as well collect the whole set.” Trickster John clapped his hands with glee as Dave trudged over in resignation and pressed his hands to the glass. His green-haired equivalent did the same.

_Ooh, can I come too?_

“I'm sure I'll regret this, but yes.” Hands were clasped and muscles flexed as Dave tugged his reflection through. He was prepared, though. When Trickster Dave made as if to fly into his arms, he threw up a hand firmly against his chest.

“No hugs.”

He pouted, stepped back with his hands held up innocently, then grinned as he shifted his weight. Trickster Dave was lightning fast, and Rose never even saw it coming. A split second later and she was thoroughly entangled in lean, muscular arms, pressed tightly against his chest. He smelled like mint and strawberries.

_Skdjlafgshgliibolybgwoxcvslfj!!!!_

For a second she thought she had slipped into grimdark mode again, because the thoughts running through her head were incomprehensible, even to her. She made a weak effort at pushing him away and he promptly obeyed, still gripping her shoulders. The heat of his hands burned through her sleeves.

“Sissy! Other Sis, I mean! So nice to meet you! Can I call you Sis?”

Rose found herself unable to look away from his eyes, which were shamelessly uncovered for all the world to see. They were bubble-gum pink with white pupils, and it was almost impossible to stop staring at them. Unfortunately, his gaze only made it even more difficult to form an intelligent sentence. “Um.”

“Great! Oh man, this is, like, so awesome! I can't wait to meet everyone! We could see those funny gray-skinned people with the horns, yesterday; what are they? Can I meet them, too? Will you show me around? Can I hang out with you?”

Rose continued to gape like a fish, until she heard Strider snicker. With a flush, she pulled herself together and struggled to regain her composure. “For your information, the 'gray-skinned people' are Trolls, and I'm sure you  _will_ meet them, seeing as how they are the only other people living here. As for showing you around, I suspect the four of us shall give you all the grand tour, together.”

“I see, I see.” He stroked his chin in a mockery of intelligent thought, then smiled at her in a manner that was probably best described as _innocently charming_. “You know, you talk really pretty!”

_God, what is wrong with me today?_ she wondered as her face heated up again. “It's just the way I always talk...”

He giggled. _Giggled_. “You should hear Sissy. She talks so funny!”

“Oh dear. It's some candy-coated form of Eldritch, isn't it?”

He merely smiled and wrapped an arm across her shoulders, steering her in front of the mirror. She struggled not to squirm under the unfamiliar weight. Trickster Rose stared back at her expectantly, bouncing happily at the prospect of crossing over and rejoining her friends. Trying to ignore the feeling that she was being as stupid as the chick that runs upstairs in horror movies, she pressed her hands to the looking glass as her reflection did the same.

_Cid x mannn?_

If Rose's hands weren't already busy, she would have performed a facepalm x2 combo. Even though she couldn't understand a word of that, she was certain she knew what had been said. Honestly, she was tempted to just say 'no,' but there hardly seemed to be any point in being cautious _now_. If these beings were dangerous, the damage had already been done, and if they weren't, then her refusal would just be mean. “By all means, let's ignore the obvious implications of the fact that you each had to ask permission to enter. Thou mayest cross the boundary into my world, etc etc. No hugs.”

They touched, she pulled, and the last Trickster crossed the boundary. The mirror shimmered and settled into an ordinary looking surface, one that just happened not to reflect anyone. Giddypastel Rose blinked and looked around, her hands tucked timidly below her chin. Trickster Dave ruffled her hair, and Trickster John floated down to give her a hug. She smiled guilelessly at them, then looked up at the real John and held out her arms.

For some reason, he turned very red and began to cough. “S-sure, I can give you a hug,” he stuttered, dropping back down to his feet and walking hesitantly towards her. She did not share in his hesitation, however, and leaped into his arms. He turned even redder, darting nervous glances at everyone as he awkwardly tried to figure out where to put his hands.

“Suspicious.”

“Wha?” he squeaked as he stared at the real Rose. “Wh-wh-wh-what's suspicious? There's nothing suspicious!”

“Yes there is.”

“Egderp, you're totally suspicious.”

“I'd have to agree!”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” he stammered.

“John,” Rose said flatly as she stepped closer, pinning him in place with her eyes, “did you program my copy to be attracted to you? You know Aradia's going to ream you up and down if you did.”

He laughed nervously, then relaxed a little. “No, no, I didn't do anything like that! I don't even know how! This is just the way she is, I guess. Maybe she's grateful for being created?”

Trickster Rose smiled and nodded. “Deidn axsed! X dnll dnb nn cbme, eieed!” Trickster Jade suddenly snorted with laughter. 

“What did she say?”

“That you're right.”

John frowned. “I think she said more than that...”

“Nonsense. Her language just sounds verbose to others.”

“Then why did you laugh?”

She grinned. “I'll tell you later. So anyway! How about that tour? Show us around, introduce us to everyone, all that jazz?”

“Yeah! Can we meet the trolls? Are they nice? Do they like to play?”

“Yes, you can meet the trolls. Calm down already, you're like a bunch of yappy dogs,” Rose muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Trickster Dave parked himself at her side, reaching around to rub her arm comfortingly.

“Sorry. Try not to get too mad at us? We were only born yesterday, after all.”

She couldn't help but give a little laugh. “Finally, an instance where that saying is actually appropriate. Astounding.”

The original Dave looked around. The Jades were already heading out the door, and John seemed to be completely enamored with the version of Rose who wore mini-skirts. He turned to Trickster John. “Looks like you've been rejected, pal.”

He drooped. “I guess our Windy race will have to wait until later.” He scuffed a shoe shyly, hands behind his back as he peered up through his blond lashes. “You wouldn't, uh want to keep me company, would you? Mister Cool-Dave?” The blond John blushed suddenly and looked away, and Dave just barely stopped himself from running a hand through his hair to preen. Rose caught the aborted gesture and smirked.

_At least I'm not the only one discombobulated by these beings_ , she thought ruthlessly. 

* * *

“...And this is the last, but most important room, the Computer Lab slash Dining Hall. And it looks like all the trolls are here, too.”

“Oh, wow!” Trickster Dave exclaimed as he stepped off the transportalizer pad. “They're so cool!”

Six heads looked up in surprise at hearing Dave's voice speaking  _those_ words with  _that_ inflection. Aradia blinked as she looked up and down his body, taking in his revealing pink shorts and heart-shaped sunglasses. There was a sudden flash of spinning red clockwork as she disappeared and reappeared in the exact same spot.

“Excuse me, I just _had_ to tattle,” she explained. “That's a nice look for you, Dave. I am _okay_ with it.”

There was another flash of light as the next couple appeared, the real Dave and Trickster John. Aradia's smirk vanished and was replaced by confusion.

Rose coughed, gaining everyone's attention. “Dear friends, I must regretfully inform you that we have a few more mouths to feed, now.”

“Oh, don't worry, Rose, we don't eat much!” Trickster John said happily, then bobbed into the air as he spotted the leftover cupcakes on the dining table. “Ooh, except for sweets!”

Another two flashes of light, and the rest of their party had materialized. “May I present,” Rose continued with insincere enthusiasm, “our Trickster Selves?”

The trolls gaped. Gamzee was the first to recover. “Woooaaah. Welcome, my clown brothers and sisters. Especially you,” he said with a gesture to Trickster Rose. “Did you eat so much sopor slime that you, like...  _became_ sopor? I can see it radiating off you in waves of calm and miracles. So fuckin' deep, man. It's like... sopor zen.” She giggled and blushed, hands on her cheeks.

Karkat began to bristle and took a deep breath. Rose stepped calmly out of the way, freeing up John as the target of choice for the imminent explosion. “JOHN. FUCKING. EGBERT.”

“Yes?” they both said at the same time.

“ _You_ shut up,” he growled to the new one. “I'll get to you later.” He rounded on the original. “What the FUCK? As if that hideous reflection-device wasn't bad enough, you had to go and make things worse, didn't you? May I just state for the record that this is NOT the proper way to replenish the human population?”

“I know that, Karkat! But they're real! We couldn't just _leave_ them in there. Besides, Jade started it!”

“Way to pass the blame, fuckass!” she called from across the room.

“Come on, what would you have done?” he asked appealingly.

“I would have left them where I found them,” Karkat replied with a sneer, “and then bolted the door shut for good measure, because they are obviously an offense to all that is sane and reasonable in the universe.”

“He has a point,” Trickster Jade said sagely. Trickster Dave snorted with laughter, which set off Trickster John, giggling like a hyena. Karkat covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“Personally, I agree with you,” Rose said with a sigh, “but what's done is done. No point in wasting your breath over it.”

“But I _want_ to waste my breath over it,” he muttered with irritation. “Otherwise he'll just keep doing things like this without thinking!”

“But your lectures only encourage him. He thinks they're funny.”

“That's because he's an _idiot_.” He glared at the source of his irritation, then shifted his gaze to the blond twin floating around in the air above him. “And I'm sure _you_ are, too.”

Trickster John floated down closer, invading his personal space. “Does someone need a _hug?_ ”

Karkat blanched. “FUCK NO. Get away from me you nookwhiffing bulgemuncher—wha!” Suddenly his feet left the ground as he was picked up by the breeze. Flailing in panic, he clung to the source of the problem, then pushed him away with a shove, then latched on to him again. “WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK? Put me down THIS INSTANT, or I swear to god I'm going to rip that stupid swirly-candy-on-a-stick off your head and shove it up your waste chute, you grotesque mockery of pink-monkey-kind!”

The trickster took full advantage of Karkat's clinging limbs and snuggled in as close as possible. “I don't think my lollipop would fit!” he said cheerfully, then nuzzled the troll's pointy ear and dropped his voice to a more private volume. “But we could try yours.”

Karkat was struck temporarily speechless. He froze, his face turning redder and redder. Trickster John seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort, bobbing happily in the air without a care in the world. “Did... did you just make a... aren't you not a homosexual?”

“What is that?”

“What do you mean, _what is that?_ You're the one who first—I mean, not _you_ , _he_ did, rather—but don't tell me that... _what?_ ”

“I have no idea what you're going on about, Mister Karkat, but that's okay! I like you, will you play with me?”

“I WILL MURDER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!”

“Is that a fun game?”

Karkat looked like a tea kettle about to explode. His cheeks were puffed out, his eyes bugged, and his fists clenched into little balls of fury. Terezi started to cackle, getting a kick out of his predicament. He snarled at her and twisted his head around, trying to find the real John without suffering too much vertigo. “JOHN!”

“Yes?” they both said, again.

“Get this crazy fucking thing off me!”

John grinned, trying his hardest not to laugh. “Come on, other me, let him down. I know he's funny when he's riled up, but it's not nice to push too far!”

“Awwww,” Trickster John pouted as he descended, setting Karkat's feet back upon solid floor. “Well, if you say so. I guess you know best.” John looked pleased at his trickster's acknowledgment. He reached over to help smooth out the wrinkles in Karkat's shirt, but the troll batted his hands away in irritation.

“Do you have the slightest idea what you created?” he growled. “That _thing_ has a filthy mind, is not-not a homosexual, and propositioned me in the most crude way imaginable!”

John laughed at him in obvious disbelief. “Really, Karkat, you don't have to fling mud around just because you lost face a little! Besides, he's not a thing!”

“Yeah, I'm not a thing! I have a name.”

John blinked and stared at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“Trickster John!”

Karkat snorted in derision. “That's not a name, it's  _his_ name plus a title.”

“Is not! It's the name Jade gave us!”

John held up his hands in a calming gesture. “How about this? I'll give you a new name!”

Trickster John paused in his pout, looking at him hopefully. “Really? Like what?”

John furrowed his brow in concentration, thinking deeply. “How about... Johnster?”

Karkat gave him a look that screamed  _your stupidity is causing me actual, physical pain._ “Please tell me that was a joke and you're about to laugh and tell me your real suggestion next?”

“What's wrong with Johnster?” he asked in surprise. “Johnster the Trickster? Johnster the Jester?”

“More like Johnster the Monster,” Karkat sneered with a sidelong glance at the object of his distaste.

“I like it!” Johnster said with a manic grin. “Hey guys, from now on you can call me Johnster!”

“Okay,” Dave said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Rose glanced over their way and nodded. “Works for me.”

“It rolls off the tongue better, doesn't it?” Jade said thoughtfully. “In that case, should I call you Jadester?”

“You can call me whatever you like,” Jadester purred.

“Soooo... Davester for me?”

“Iae Annlndla lna cl?”

“Yup!” John said happily.

“NO NO NO, stop this embarrassing display of moronic nomenclature immediately! Those names are _not_ sticking!”

“Oh, they're sticking,” Davester giggled. Karkat let out a frustrated groan and hid his face in his hands. John patted him sympathetically on the back.

“It's okay... I'm sure you'll get used to it!”

He gave a little sob.

* * *

“More to your right,” Terezi corrected as Sollux tried to lower the small square table next to the large dining one with his telekinetic powers. Though he had improved greatly under her tutelage in the art of seeing by smell, his psychic abilities had been sight-based and still gave him trouble. Learning how to use them again was the one thing Terezi couldn't teach him, and the going was slow. It didn't help that the scent of his power tended to overwhelm all other smells, rendering him essentially blind once more.

“Here?”

“Yeah, perfect. You can set it down.” The piece of furniture landed with a gentle clunk. Sollux sniffed the air as the light of his power faded, then adjusted the table a little more until it was flush with the main one. As he moved out of the way, Dave stepped up to deposit some chairs. Despite the Trickster's protests that they wouldn't need much food, no one could quite believe that they would need _nothing_ , and as long as they were going to eat, they might as well eat at the table like everyone else. No matter how weird they might be.

Speaking of the Tricksters, their first day in the real world had completely blown the usual routine out of the water. Usually the trolls and humans spent all day on their computers, communicating through chat when they felt like talking, even when they were all in the same room. It was what they were used to, what they were comfortable with. However, when Sollux offered to set the newcomers up with their own computers and accounts, they had unanimously declined. Apparently they actually  _preferred_ speaking face to face.

Since then they had behaved like demanding children, constantly vying for everyone's attention. Dave had made a hastily-aborted attempt at showing Davester how to use his delicate mixing gear, Jade had tried and failed to hold Jadester's attention with her science projects, and Rose had spent most of the day trying to avoid Rosester entirely. John, however, was still having great fun racing Johnster through the corridors on gusts of wind.

It was dinnertime now, though, and since everyone had gotten used to eating at the same time, their growling stomachs brought them together even without being summoned. They were already filtering in one by one, or getting up from their computers to join them at the table. Sollux eased into his usual seat between Terezi and Rose while Jade and Kanaya arrived with freshly alchemized food.

“Really, Kanaya, more sweets?” Rose asked incredulously, sounding far less amused than she had at breakfast.

“They're for the Tricksters!” she said defensively, but with a betraying hint of green to her cheeks.

“I'm sure. No doubt it's only coincidence that their new seats are right next to yours.”

She sniffed. “It was John's request that they be put there. Will you accuse me of conspiracy for sitting across from him for months before our new guests arrived?”

Rose's eyes narrowed as her lips pursed. Terezi leaned closer to Sollux and whispered in a sing-song voice, “uh-oh, sounds like trouble's brewing between the lovebirds!” Rose heard it and glared at her. She opened her mouth, most likely to deny any official relationship with Kanaya, but never got the chance to speak. The flash of light from the transportalizer caught her attention, and then she forgot all about petty arguments.

John had just appeared, with Johnster cradled in his arms. The latter looked ill.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11763164601)

“What happened?” Jade asked with concern as she rushed to her brother's side. Rosester followed closely, hovering uncertainly behind her.

“I don't know! We were racing along, just like we've been doing all afternoon, when suddenly he lost control of the breeze and fell!”

“Oh, goodness!” She examined Johnster critically, looking for bruises. “Are you okay? You didn't break anything, did you?”

“No, I'm fine,” he said weakly. “I just wore myself out is all. Life is kind of new to me and I don't know my limits yet.”

“Well, here, let's get him to the table,” Jade said firmly as she helped John maneuver to their seats, dodging concerned Tricksters. “You skipped lunch, maybe you're just hungry. Do you think you can eat something?”

John carefully set set the boy down in the chair next to his. Johnster slouched and looked a bit crooked, but he managed to stay up. “Yeah... that cake looks good.” His blue-and-red eyes watched Jade's hands like a hawk as she served him up a slice.

“Perhaps,” Rose said a touch acidly, “it is the fact that you have eaten nothing but sweets that resulted in your lack of stamina.”

“Not everyone's metabolism works the same, you know,” Kanaya defended him, her voice unusually sharp. “Even those who look like humans—or trolls—should not necessarily be classified as such. Obviously his dietary needs are different.”

They glared at each other. “Fine,” Rose finally conceded. “John said something about using cake mix to create the mirror, I can see how that might have affected them. However, seeing as you have managed just fine on blood and healthy foods for as long as we've been here, in _your_ case, sweets shall remain a _sometimes food_.”

Kanaya scowled and turned away, having no valid rebuttal for her argument. Sollux's lips twitched as he barely managed to stifle a snicker. His turn to feed the rainbow drinker was coming up soon, and the last thing he wanted was to gain her ire just before trusting her with his neck.

Everyone settled down and tucked into their food. It was a little odd to have four more people at the table, but not unpleasant. Sollux had assumed that the newcomers would be messy and prone to starting food fights, but they were surprisingly well behaved. Of course, that could have just been because their leader was unwell and needed to eat his food, not play with it. Sollux wondered if that was another reason they had been put at  _that_ end of the table, instead of next to Jade and Gamzee at the other. Gamzee was prone to smashing his food into a sickening paste before he consumed it, and Jade still occasionally slipped into old habits and wolfed her food down like she'd been raised in a livestock housing facility. It was probably best to keep the Tricksters away from bad influences.

“Feeling better?” John asked after Johnster had consumed several slices of icing-drenched cake.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, finally sitting up straighter. “I guess I just needed to get my sugar blood levels back up!”

“You mean blood sugar?”

Johnster pondered that for a moment. “No, I'm pretty sure I had it right the first time.”

Kanaya's fork paused in the middle of the journey to her mouth. She recovered a moment later with a quick glance at Rose, then resumed eating.

“You know,” Sollux pondered aloud, “all thith talk about the way you Trickthterth might be different, plus with Johnthter collapthing and all, hath got me thinking. If I hack deep enough into the achemiter'th coding for your Looking Glath, I bet I could learn a lot about you guyth.” Four heads turned to look at him in unison. “I mean, right now we don't even know what to do if you really _did_ get hurt. You could have allergieth that we don't know about.”

“Hey, yeah!” John suddenly exclaimed. “What if my peanut allergy changed to something else? And we accidentally fed it to you and you died! That would be horrible!”

Johnster froze in the middle of chewing, then swallowed hard. “I... don't know anything about any allergies.”

“Thee? All the more reathon to take a peek at your code. Tell you what, I'll crack open the alchemiter right after dinner. How'th that thound?”

The Tricksters exchanged glances. “Okay,” Johnster said hesitantly. “Can I come?”

“Iae cl?”

“If you two want, I gueth. It'th really not all that interethting to watch, though.”

“That's okay. I probably shouldn't exert myself for a while. I promise I'll be really really quiet!”

Sollux smirked. “I'll believe that when I thee it.” Shaking his head with amusement, he resumed eating. The normal dinner noises took over the table: the clinking of silverware, the soft sounds of chewing, Karkat and Terezi arguing over stupid things. The Tricksters continued to stare at Sollux, though, and after a while he grew uncomfortable under their gazes.

“Jeeth, ith there thomething on my face?” he muttered, taking a drink. Aradia blinked and looked up.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I know I'm a handthome guy, but there'th thuch a thing ath too much thtaring.”

Aradia glanced curiously from side to side. “I'm not sure what you're talking about. No one's staring at you.”

“Are you kidding? All four of the Trickthterth have been, for a while now.”

Her eyebrows rose. “They're not even looking your way, Sollux. They're talking amongst themselves.”

Sollux frowned. “They're... not?” He sniffed the air carefully. The scents filtered back and formed a picture in his mind: four familiar-yet-different faces, all pointed straight at him, eyes wide and unblinking. And yet, he could hear their voices as they laughed at each other's jokes, obviously absorbed in their own conversation. Was his nose playing tricks on him? “What do you thmell, Terezi?”

“Huh?” she asked, licking something red off of her lips. “Sorry, at the moment all I can smell is Tabasco sauce!”

He wrinkled his nose. “How can you thtand that thtuff? It leaveth you blind!”

“It does not, it just makes the whole world red!” she said with a grin, then sniffed the air loudly. “Anyway, as far as I can tell they're not looking this way. You're probably just mis-smelling.”

“I... gueth that could be it,” he said uncertainly. And yet, even knowing the truth, he still couldn't get his brain to re-interpret the scents. _What's wrong with me? I thought I was getting the hang of Terezi's teachings!_ He picked at the rest of the food on his plate. Between the disturbing idea that he might be seeing things wrong and the unnerving feeling of being stared at, his appetite was gone.

At last, everyone began to finish up and wander their separate ways. “Well,” Rose said as she rose from her seat, “I think I'm going to work on my knitting until bedtime. Good night, everyone.”

“Good morning,” Sollux replied.

“What is knitting?” Davester asked. 

Rose looked at him fondly. “Making things, usually clothing, out of yarn. It's my hobby.”

“So it's fun?”

“I don't know about _fun_ , but I find it relaxing and enjoyable.”

Davester considered this. “Can I learn?”

She smiled. “You're welcome to try.”

“Okay!” He grinned brilliantly and followed her to the transportalizer pad. Unfortunately for Sollux, this resulted in the hair-raising impression that the Trickster's head turned around backwards in order to keep staring at him until he disappeared.

_O...kay. That was really fucking creepy._

With a shudder, he stood and sniffed the air, getting a good reading of his surroundings. With a bit of focus, all the leftover food and dishes were surrounded by appleberry blast as he levitated them into the air. As his power rendered him unable to smell anything else, the sensation of being stared at  _finally_ left. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

“Well,” he said, turning to where Johnster and Rosester were standing moments ago, “thince you want to come watch, why don't you lead the way? I can't thee very well right now.”

“Dnb miad?”

Sollux turned his head as Rosester stepped up beside him, tracking her by the soft sound of her breath. “Bc... dnb mia dinl cd eiae! xl dnb oiad, X clia...”

“What'd thhe thay?”

“Hee hee, I think she likes you! She wants to hold your hand.”

“Oh.” Sollux's burnt-out eyes stared vacantly in her direction, his head cocked in curiosity. “Thure, I gueth. That'd be very helpful.” He held out a hand and felt soft, gentle fingers curl around his. She giggled shyly as she led him toward the pad, a convoy of floating dishes trailing behind them.

“X oin onaelaxas, oed en dnb didn nn lbaad?”

“Tranthlation?”

“She wants to know why you talk so funny.”

Sollux snorted with laughter.

* * *


	3. Touch Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering how I formatted Rosester's mouseover translations:
> 
> "<samp title="Translated speech">Coded speech</samp>"
> 
> =
> 
> "Coded speech"

Davester stared very intently at the yarn covered needles in his hands, eyes wide with childlike concentration. With exaggerated care he poked the tip of one needle through a loop.

“In through the front door,” he muttered, then wrapped the string coming off the ball of yarn around the same needle. “Once around the back... peek through the window.” He twisted the needle towards himself and carefully poked the tip back through, then slid the top loop off the other needle. “And off jumps Jack!”

“Very good.” Rose smiled as Davester looked up at her, grinning with delight. She giggled on the inside. It was just so bizarre to see her brother's face looking open and honest! Not to mention expressing genuine enthusiasm for her simple hobbies. Dave had never once asked her about her knitting, even for ironic purposes. He teased her about her writing sometimes, but the closest he'd come in contact to a ball of yarn was the time she beaned him with one across the head. “You're quite handy with a pair of needles.”

“Hee, Sissy is even better!”

“Oh, she knits too?”

There was a long pause. “I like the rhyme, it makes it easy to remember! Did you make it?”

“Oh no, it's been around for a long time, to help children learn to knit.”

“Did your mom teach it to you?”

Rose's needles stilled. “No,” she said after a moment of silence. “I learned how to knit from the Internet, after John sent me some needles as a present.”

“Oh.” Davester was quiet for a while, sensing that Rose was sad. “Um. John is really nice, isn't he?”

“Yes,” she said softly, and finally resumed the soft clicking of her needles.

“Do you like him?”

“He's a very good friend. And our leader, not that he'll admit that.”

“Are you gonna marry him?”

Rose dropped a stitch. “What? What brought this on?”

“I just... thought he liked you, maybe.”

“I...” Rose shifted uncomfortably. “I know we have to get together, someday. We have to. We're the only humans left, we have a duty...”

“Do you not want to?”

She bit her lip. “I know  _he_ wants to. But... I...”

“He's not your type?”

“He's very sweet! And kind, and a wonderful friend. But I'm more _attracted_ to people who are... smooth. Silver-tongued. Confident, instead of desperate. Like... like Kanaya, although we're kind of fighting right now.”

“Or like Dave!”

“What?” she cried in a voice several octaves higher. “No, no, of course not! He's my brother!”

“...so?”

“So?! So it's wrong! We couldn't have kids, they would be inbred!”

“So don't have kids with him.”

“That's beside the point!” she contradicted. “I shouldn't feel this way in the first place! I mean...!”

“Ah, so you _do_ like him!”

“No,” she said sharply, the tips of her ears turning slightly red. “I _meant_ to say, I _couldn't_ feel that way in the first place. He's my brother, and we don't look at each other that way. We hardly look at each other at all. Aside from the occasional round of banter, we barely interact. He doesn't even come to me for dream analysis anymore.”

“....oh.”

The room grew uncomfortably quiet after her outburst. With furious concentration she resumed her knitting, trying to settle her nerves with the calming repetition. She couldn't help but notice, though, when Davester suddenly sniffled. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye, then turned to stare in disbelief. Was he getting  _teary eyed?_

“What?” she whispered in mild shock.

He glanced at her and blushed, hurriedly trying to blink back the moisture. “Sorry,” he said in a choked up voice. “I just started thinking, 'what if Sissy and I grew that distant?' And it made me really sad!”

A touch of sympathy softened her expression. “You two are close?”

“Y-yeah. We do almost everything together! Play games and sing songs—which is really funny with her speech impediment—and eat and sleep and everything! I don't know what I would do without her.” A few tears glistened on his trembling green eyelashes, like dew on fine blades of grass. He quickly brushed them away.

“That sounds... really nice,” Rose said softly, politely looking away while he composed himself. “I wish I'd had the opportunity to be that close with _my_ brother.”

“I'm probably a poor substitute, but for what it's worth, you can have _me_...”

She smiled fondly, turning back to him. “You're not a poor anything. I quite enjoyed spending the evening with you.” His expression at her words was positively glowing. He watched her contentedly as she stood up and began to put their knitting things away. “For now, though, it's getting late, and I should probably bid you goodnight. You know where your new room is?”

“Yeah, I remember!” he said as he hopped to his feet, walking beside her as she escorted him to the door. “I should be able to find it alright.”

“Very well.” She tapped the button that opened the door, standing in the doorway as he pranced into the corridor. “Goodnight, Davester.”

“Goodnight, Sis!” Instead of starting down the hall, however, he rocked on his heels and peeked at her uncertainly. “Say, um... can I give you a goodnight kiss?” Her eyebrows shot up. “I always give Sissy one, can I give you one, too?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head with mild exasperation. “Will it make you feel better?”

“Yes!”

She looked at him again with a roll of her eyes. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt.” Rose glanced up and down the corridor just to make sure there were no witnesses to her being silly, then stepped forward, offering her cheek.

She was completely surprised when, instead of the chaste peck she was expecting, Davester enveloped her in his arms, pressed her tightly against his body, and leaned her back into a  _very_ invasive french kiss.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11892798539)

_This is not a goodnight kiss between siblings!!_

Her first impulse was to jump away, but Davester had all the muscles of his original and his arms were like steel, holding her gently but firmly in place. Heat radiated off him in waves, making it impossible to ignore just how much of their bodies were touching. Her breasts were pressed into his chest as he leaned over her, a hand on her rump forced her pelvis to be flush with his, and she was pretty sure a bent knee had slipped in between her legs. Fingers were tangled into her hair as he supported her head, tilting it so far back that it was difficult to close her mouth.

Davester was  _entirely_ too good at this. Smooth. Confident, one might say. And he definitely knew how to use his silver tongue. Rose began to tremble.

He explored her mouth with curiosity, sweeping over her slick teeth and prodding at her own tongue. When she didn't respond, he switched to nipping at her bottom lip. The action made her gasp.  _Oh god I felt that all the way to my toes!_ she marveled, shivering. He sucked her lip into his mouth, which was something she'd never considered to be attractive but  _fucking hell how can that feel so good?!_ Suddenly her knees forgot how to hold up weight and she staggered. Davester didn't even stumble, just clutched her a little tighter and shifted his footing.

At some point, she realized, her hands had stopped flailing and found purchase in his t-shirt. She clung to it tightly, for fear that otherwise she would wrap her arms around his well-defined shoulders and just... hold him there. The sound of loud, heavy breathing filled the air, and she was shamefully certain that it was hers. There wasn't an inch of her skin that didn't feel like it was on fire. At the same time, it also seemed that all the bones in her body had transformed into limp pasta. Davester's hold on her was the only reason she hadn't melted into a puddle on the floor. Which was a shame, because if that had happened, if he was  _no longer_ holding her, then she was almost positive that she wouldn't be having so much trouble _thinking_.

_Get a hold of yourself!_ some part of her mind that still retained function screamed.  _He's still your brother! Sort of!_

Her body seemed oblivious to the fact, though. It knew what it wanted, and what it wanted was to press her groin up against his, in hopes of finding some relief to the ache between her legs.

Davester gave her lips one final, thorough perusal before suddenly pulling away. She opened her eyes, which she didn't even remember closing, and stared at him with a wild look, her chest rising and falling erratically as she panted and gasped.

“Thank you, Sis,” he said, so sweetly, so _innocently_. “Goodnight!”

Absolute mortification hit her like a well placed bucket of ice-water over a slightly opened doorway. She quickly regained her feet, her legs wobbling like jelly but managing to hold up. Her fingers uncurled stiffly from his shirt as she stepped away, trying hard not to stumble. “Ah—yes. G-goodnight.”

He turned and began to stroll merrily down the corridor, his steps fluid and energetic. “Sleep tight! Sweet dreams!” he called over his shoulder before rounding the bend and disappearing from sight.

Rose turned numbly and walked back into her room. She sat down mechanically on her bed, staring blankly into space.

“Sweet dreams?” she finally muttered, breaking the silence. She collapsed backwards across the mattress, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “How on Earth am I supposed to fall asleep _now?_ ”

She draped her arms over her face, hiding her eyes in the crook of her elbows. She licked her swollen, flushed lips.

Her tongue detected strawberries.

She licked them again.

* * *

Sollux struggled to act natural. He swallowed, resisting the urge to just leap to his feet and _run_. It wouldn't help. They would catch up to him before he could reach anyone. He would just have to do what he could from here. If he could hack into the alchemiter from his lab computer, he could surely send a message from the alchemiter to someone else, even if it wasn't programmed for that.

He sniffed the air cautiously. Johnster had fallen asleep in a pile of old grist-duty experiments, still wiped from his long day and bored from Sollux's quiet computer-work. He could have almost been cute.

_Except now I know why he's feeling weak._

Digging into the Tricksters' programming had been... enlightening. It had been fascinating at first, a puzzling riddle of code that almost seemed purposefully obtuse. No, not seemed. _Was_. Everything about the Tricksters was purposeful. Their code was elegantly, beautifully functional, if labyrinthine.

But their _purpose_! Their _purpose!_ He had to warn the others! He typed cautiously across the keys, trying to write a quick and dirty message program before he attracted their attention.

“Lxae iaddexas dld?”

Sollux froze. He turned his head slowly, getting a good sniff. Rosester was mere inches away, hands clutched cutely behind her back as she leaned over his shoulder. “Oh, um,” he forced his throat to stop clenching up as he hoped she couldn't read code. “I'm thtill looking. No thignth of any allergieth yet, though, tho that's promithing!”

“Did!” she cheered, straightening up and turning away with a flounce. She headed over to Johnster and flopped on top of him, bringing him to consciousness with a start. _No!_ Sollux cursed silently. _Don't wake him up!_

“Huh?” the boy mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes. “Is it time yet?”

“Dbd,” she purred, nuzzling their foreheads together as she straddled his lap. Johnster breathed deeply of her fragrance, turning his head up to languidly kiss her lips. Her green aura flickered and dimmed just the tiniest bit. Without looking Sollux's way or even breaking apart, the feeling of being stared at suddenly resumed with overpowering intensity.

_Shit shit shit shit they know they know they know!!_ He fought the urge to panic as he tried to complete his program as fast as trolly possible. It was nearly done, he could finish if he only had a few more minutes!

Rosester slid off of her companion's lap and helped him to his feet. Johnster wobbled for a second before finding his balance.

“En dnb alle cnal?”

“No, no, keep it. Davester will come help me when he's finished up.”

“Nnid,” she replied, stroking his cheek with the back of her fingers in a tender gesture. Still their eyes burned into the back of Sollux's head. His fingers flew over the keyboard, lines of code flying across the screen.

_A little longer, please!_ He searched for a conversation topic that might sidetrack them from what he knew was coming. “Tho, uh, you two are red for each other? That'th pretty cool...”

They parted, stalking towards him from different angles. “What does that mean?”

“You know, matethpri—uh, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Johnster considered this, but his casual pace towards the troll's tense back did not slow. “I don't think so.”

“Really? Even after that little performanthe jutht now? That'th kind of a dick move. You thould make an honetht woman out her.” Rosester giggled at him, like he'd said something ridiculous.

“What does it matter if she's honest?” John asked, puzzled. He closed the distance between them with a few more steps, and Sollux could feel his breath gusting across his neck. Assuming he was even breathing at all, and it wasn't just the Breeze eddying playfully around him. “For all you know, she runs around telling the full truth and nothing but the truth, all the time!” There was a brief movement as the Trickster accessed his strife specibus. A large, two-headed hammer suddenly appeared in his hands, and Rosester plucked out the needles holding up her hair.

“It's the honesty of her translators that you should worry about!” he said cheerfully as he raised the hammer over his head.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Sollux lashed out with a flash of appleberry blast and bolted from his seat. The two tricksters froze in place, suspended by his power. He stared at them, breathing harshly as he gripped the corner of the alchemiter for support. Two voices began screaming back and forth in his head.

_Runrunrunrunrunrun!_

_No! They're caught in your power, they can't move!_

_You can't hold them forever! Get out of here while you still can!_

_Your power's range is limited! They'll come after you as soon as they're free, long before you reach safety!_

_Then you can trap them again!_

_It was only their inexperience that allowed you catch them both! They won't make that mistake again. Once you catch one, you'll be blind to the other's movements!_

_So what do I do? What do I do?!_

_Finish the program, you insufferable prick!_

_Go back in the chair? Right under their weapons?! NoNoNoNo what if they break free?!_

_You were almost done, you only need a minute. Don't be such a cluckbeast!_

_How can I code, I can't see--_

_Lick the screen, dumbass._

Sollux swallowed loudly, steeled his nerves, and inched back towards the chair. He could feel the two Tricksters straining against his hold on them, to no avail. Feeling the tiniest bit calmer, he skirted them as much as he could, sitting down on the very edge of his seat. He couldn't smell anything but red and blue, but he was almost certain that he could sense their frustration. Not so much summoning his courage as gathering his self-hatred for his own cowardice, he leaned over and licked the alchemiter's monitor.

Yes, the code was nearly complete. All he needed was a few more lines! His fingers skittered over the keys, leaving clawmarks in his haste. They could lecture him later. If he was still around later to be lectured. If his friends were still around to lecture him. Another line done! He slobbered over the screen, feeling like Terezi at her most disgusting. He promised himself he would never make fun of her for leaving her computer monitor slimy again.

Last line! Shaking with nerves but feeling triumphant, he slapped the final key and began to compile the program. The progress bar zipped along at a respectable pace, filling him with relief. Surprisingly exhausted, he relaxed his shoulders and slouched in the chair. It would only take a few more seconds until it was finished, and then he could begin his message. A message of warning.

There was a soft, feminine giggle behind him.

He stiffened. What could she possibly have to laugh about? He could feel that both of them were still firmly secured by his telekinetic power. He was about to send a message that would blow away their cover and turn everyone against them. If anything, she should be furious. At this stage, they would be helpless against a united front.

100%! Program complete! He reached out to open a new message.

The smell of lurid green filled his nose.

Too late, Sollux realized his mistake. The light of his powers may have been wrapped tightly around Rosester all this time, but his hold actually stopped at the edge of her flickering luminescence.

The Seer of Light extended her power, the clashing colors battling until his were pushed back far enough to give her all the movement she needed.

Sweet, musical laughter filled his ears as a pair of needles, clenched tightly in one hand, stabbed into the side of his neck.

* * *

“All done?”

“Dbd!”

Jadester curled a lip as she surveyed the room. “Jeez, you're a right regular slob.”

“Eld!” Rosester exclaimed in offense. “X abnd exe oeid Anea innle! Eno oin X nbddnnle dn nano--”

“Yes, yes, whatever. You could have pinned him down or something, instead of letting him stagger all over the place in his death throes.” She made a huffing sound, then eyed her up and down suggestively. “If you want me to clean this up for you, you'd better make it worth my while.”

“Sbd... X abnd bnle bd idcnnd llladdexas X eie...”

“Oh, please, you're just going to be crawling into bed with John in another minute. Not all of us have it so easy right off the bat. Speaking of which.” She turned to Johnster, who was sitting exhausted on the floor. “Davester's ready for you. Get lost.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said sluggishly as he rose to his feet. “I'm on my way. Goodnight, girls.”

“Snneaxsed.” Rosester waved as he wobbled like a drunkard out the door. Then she turned to her remaining companion and embraced her.

“Did you have fun?” Jadester purred as she bared her teeth to bite along her jawline.

“An ciann,” Rosester said sternly.

“Spoilsport,” she scoffed, stopping at the last second. She moved instead to her earlobe, nipping it lightly enough to leave no marks. Rosester sucked in a breath as green-painted nails trailed down her back, over her hips, and then played teasingly with the hem of her skirt. She pressed closer against her, running her own hands over Jadester's bare shoulders and turning her head so she could kiss her instead. The green light around her body, already rather pale, dimmed even further until there was barely anything left. Rosester whimpered, and it didn't sound like one of desire.

Jadester pulled away, licking her lips. “Aww, did I take too much?” Rosester looked pained, but bit her lip and shook her head. “Good girl,” she said approvingly as she stepped away. Looking around the room once more, she lifted a hand and gave her fingers a single snap.

All the blood splatters disappeared from the walls, ceiling, Rosester's clothing, and Sollux's limp body. She walked over to where it lay and crouched down, studying it. “You did very well tonight,” she called over her shoulder. “Go ahead and go claim your reward; I'll finish up here.”

“Deian dnb,” the tired Trickster said, turning away and departing out the door. Jadester motioned upwards with her hand, and the rapidly cooling body floated into the air.

She smiled darkly.

“First one down.”

* * *

Dave strolled down the silent corridors, the hands in his pockets twitching against his legs where no one could see. His head bobbed ever so slightly to a beat only he could hear, as his steps fell into shifting patterns, as if he were dancing. Whenever he finished up a feelings jam with Terezi, he felt oddly like jamming out musically. The empty, cold gray corridors stretched ever onward, the echo of his steps adding their own tracks to his mental symphony.

Or at least, he thought they were empty. There was a faint noise up ahead, he suddenly noticed, coming from a different corridor that was about to intersect with his. It was only a murmur, and he might not have even noticed it at all if not for the fact that it was the one word certain to pierce through the haze of his consciousness and bring him sharply to his senses. His own name.

_Is someone looking for me?_ he wondered as he continued down the hallway. Curious but unconcerned, he reached the intersection of hallways and glanced around for the source of the noise.

He froze.

His mind went absolutely blank as he stared. He could hardly comprehend what he was seeing. Well, no, that wasn't true. He understood exactly what he was looking at. He just...

Pink-striped legs were wrapped shamelessly around another's hips. A blue and a pink pair of booty-shorts were grinding against each other. Johnster's back was arched as he leaned back against the wall, his arms pinned willingly above his head as Davester kissed and nuzzled his exposed neck.

“Oh, god,” the blond Trickster whispered breathlessly. “Oh god oh god, that's... unngg... y-yes, more... please, Davester, give me more!”

Fire and ice tore through Dave's blood, jolting him from his stupor long enough that he could backpeddle out of sight and fall back against the wall with a muffled thud. He didn't quite trust himself to stand on his own. He shivered, goosebumps breaking out up and down his arms and a sheen of sweat beginning to form on his brow. He stared blankly ahead at the plain gray walls, but the image seemed to have burned itself into his retinas.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11984173775)

Oh. Okay. So his and John's Trickster copies were more, uh,  _intimately_ acquainted.  _That's fine. That's cool. We knew from the start that they were all practically our opposites. It's not that surprising that Johnster might not be the paragon of heterosexuality that his original is. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's cool. Totally chill. Yup._

_Then why am I hiding around the corner and shaking like a newborn kitten?_

“Dave!” cried a giggling voice, pitched high with pleasure. “Where do you learn these things? Oh... oh _god_ , do that again!”

_Fuck!_ Dave cursed as he clenched his fists. _Don't shorten his name, you sound too much like John already!_ Now it was all too easy to imagine that it really _was_ John around that corner, and that the person sweeping him off his feet was not some sugar-coated imitation, but _himself_... 

Johnster was moaning now, his voice muffled by what Dave could only assume was passionate kissing. He put a hand over his own mouth to hold back a whimper, and suddenly he was thinking about yesterday and how he had held John so tightly against himself, and how his friend had returned his embrace, and how warm and soft he was and how he wanted to hold him like that for as long as he could and how very, very stubbornly he always forbade himself from thinking un-platonic thoughts about his best bro...

“Dave, you can be a little... _rougher_... if you want. I won't break,” the voice teased, dropping down into a low, throaty pitch that shot straight to Dave's groin.

_No no no!_ he cried as all his hard work shattered and violent, burning lust burst forth from his heart and tore through his veins.  _God dammit! Fuck!!_ He was growing harder by the second, all the half-imagined fantasies he'd always stamped down and put a lid on now flashing insistently through his mind's eye.  _You promised yourself you would never do this! You swore!_

Pushing himself off the wall with a sharp movement, Dave stumbled away from the erotic sounds, back the way he came. He had to get out of there! He broke into a run, as if his humiliating retreat might somehow spare him from the damage already done. All he wanted to do was lock himself in his room, put on his headphones, and blast some music in his ears until his body calmed down and his mind zoned out.

“Fuck!” he whispered, hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles stood out, white and prominent. “I had this under control!”

* * *

The Breeze carried Dave's words to Johnster's ears, now that his ability to control it had been recharged.

He smirked.

* * *

John looked up from his movie at the sound of a polite knock on the door. It was such a foreign sound; usually people messaged him if they wanted to chat, and when he actually managed to convince someone to watch a movie with him they just knocked once and barged right in. He wasn't expecting anyone right now, though, and no chat windows were open on his computer. Then again, the Tricksters didn't have accounts, so they wouldn't be able to ask first.

His heart leaped into his throat at a sudden thought. Bolting from his bed, he rushed to the door, made a paltry attempt at smoothing down his hair and clothing, then pressed the open button.

Beautiful, beautiful Rosester stood on the other side. She smiled sweetly at him, her hands behind her back in an adorably shy gesture. “Elddn,” she said softly, peering up at him through her eyelashes.

John struggled to find his tongue and coax it into forming intelligible words. “H-hi!”

“Ial dnb sbnd?”

“Um.” He darted a glance back into his room, then back at her. Oh god, this was probably all kinds of improper, but she was already here and he couldn't _possibly_ be so rude as to turn her away, right? “I'm not sure what you just said, but... would you, maybe, like to come in? I-I've got a movie on, would you be interested in watching it with me?”

“Xe dnll dn!”

He stepped aside and let her enter, making a small gesture with his hand. “Well, this is my room! Not much to look at, I'll admit, but none of the rooms in this place are. Just my big screen TV, and my movie collection, and my computer, and my... bed.”  _Real subtle there, John. Please shut up before you embarrass yourself even more!_

She giggled as the tips of his ears grew red. They sat down together at the edge of his bed, the flickering light of the TV providing most of the room's illumination. She seemed to have turned down the giddypastel thing, barely even glowing in the dim light. He kept his head rigidly facing forward, trying not to think about the fact that a gorgeous woman was right next to him. A gorgeous woman that he'd seen naked. A gorgeous woman who'd seen him with his pants down. A gorgeous, sexy woman who was _hot as fuck_ and quite probably willing to go all the way with him _right now_. 

_No no no no, yesterday was a bit odd because you didn't think she could join your world, but now she's really here and you should woo her properly before you start thinking about things like kissing those tempting lips and holding her dainty hand and pounding her into the fucking mattress while sucking onto those perfect titsOHMYGOD STOP STOP STOP!!_

Oh crap, now other parts of his body were rigidly facing certain directions. John began to sweat at the sudden heat that flushed from his face down to his chest.  _John Fucking Egbert, you are a man and you will not lay a hand on that woman until she gives you express permission!_ He stared at the TV without seeing a thing it was playing, his eyes drying out with how little he was blinking. He'd never had so much trouble maintaining interest in Con Air. It didn't help that Rosester was shifting around beside him, as if she couldn't work up an interest in it either. He stubbornly refused to look her way, but he could still feel the way the mattress moved under her weight.

She moved closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Okay, that was an adorable gesture, he could deal with that.

Her hand began to trail over his arm, walking two fingers teasingly down his skin until they reached his hand. She turned it over and wrapped her fingers through his.

Oh wow, that was distracting. Still very cute, though.

She pulled her hand away, closing his fingers over his palm. There was something in his hand now, something she left there. Helpless to his curiosity, he let his eyes trail down to his lap and opened his hand again. He stared at it in puzzlement. It looked like a wad of lace. Using both hands, he stretched it out and raised it higher for inspection.

Oh.

_OH!_

Realization hit him at the exact same moment that Rosester crawled into his lap, her arms draped over his shoulders and her thighs straddling his. It was a pair of still-warm panties.

She was sitting on his lap. In a  _very_ short dress. With no underwear on.

The words PERMISSION GRANTED flashed through his brain in bright neon letters, and John wrapped his arms around her fiercely and began kissing as hard as he could. She squeaked with delight and hugged him close, her fingers tangling in his unruly hair.  _Oh wow, this is really happening, isn't it?_ he marveled, loosening his hold on her so he could run his hands up and down her back, feeling the sleek fabric of her dress and the the slenderness of her waist. Her long scarf was already missing, and he didn't know or care where it had fallen. He could feel the subtle shift of muscles under her skin, the warmth that radiated from her body, the rise and fall of the chest that pressed against his. He wasn't dreaming or fantasizing, wasn't longing for things he might never have. She was really here, really sighing contentedly at his touch, really sitting bare-bottomed on top of his groin. Hoping he wasn't being too daring, he let his hands slide down a little farther, to rest upon the curve of her round rump.

She murmured into his lips, lapping at them teasingly with her tongue.  _Whoa_ , he thought as he opened his mouth a little, letting her slip inside. _She's so soft!_ Her flesh was indeed plump and squishy, and the feel of it under his hands filled him with strange urges. As he flexed his tongue to meet her own, he squeezed his hands experimentally. He could hear her draw a sharp little breath of surprise as her ass cheeks were clutched and pressed. Then she _moaned_ , allowing him plenty of access to relocate their french kiss over to her mouth instead. She tasted like lime jello.

She shifted, sitting up more on her knees. It made it harder to kiss, forcing him to crane his neck back, but easier to run his hands over her hindquarters. He let go and stroked down her thighs, over the brief span of skin between skirt and thigh-highs, and the peculiar rough-yet-smooth texture of her hosiery. He stopped at her knees, then went back up again even more slowly. Almost shaking with excitement when he reached the edge of her dress again, he tentatively slipped his fingers under the fabric instead of over. When she made no noise of dissent, his let his hands slip higher, her dress riding up in the back as he took her cheeks in hand again.

 _Fuck_ , it was ten times better with bare skin. She was so smooth and squeezable and... and... wow, she really _wasn't_ wearing underwear. He knew that, but... wow! She broke off their kiss, which was a bit of a relief for his neck, and also gave him the sudden realization that the cut-out over her chest was now at eye level and right in front of his face. He stared as if hypnotized at the peek-a-boo view of her cleavage. He almost objected when she pulled away, until he realized she was sitting down on his lap again. And swaying her hips from side to side. He nearly swallowed his tongue.

She smirked at him impishly as she worked the muscles in her thighs and torso, writhing and wriggling as fluidly as a snake. His hands were still on her plush tush and going along for the ride, feeling every flex and jiggle. She clung to his shoulders as she arched her back one moment, then leaned forward the next to rub her bosom against his chest. More than anything, though, he couldn't help but notice the way every single move brushed over his tenting pants, which only aroused him further, and the more aroused he got, the easier it was for her to brush against his arousal. It was a spiraling cycle he had no hope to get out of, and he didn't want to either. His breath came fast and hot and his face flushed with desire. His longing for more pleasure began to battle with his determination to be a gentleman.

Okay, so maybe they were moving way too fast for him to be a  _true_ gentleman. But he still had faith in his mangrit, and no matter how nervous and excited he was, pride demanded that he make sure the lady enjoyed this as much, if not more, than he did! So when she reached down to undo the zipper of his pants, he stopped her. Her eyes darted to his, an almost frightened look in them, but he smiled reassuringly. Reaching up behind her neck, he found her own zipper instead and tugged it slowly downwards. It reached all the way to the base of her spine, and he almost regretted not being able to see her dark skin as it was gradually revealed, like last time.

_Okay, bra strap next. These things attach by hooks, right? So if I just, uh..._ His hands struggled to manipulate the strip of elastic. _No wait, it's this way, right?_ He fumbled with it some more. _M-maybe this way?_ He tried again, and again failed. He started to tremble as his Sexterity Gambit plummeted due to embarrassment. With a giggle, Rosester twisted one arm behind her back and unhooked the band with the slightest twist of her fingers.

Yeah, that really didn't help him feel any better.

On the other hand,  _her bra was unhooked_. 

He ran his hands across the smooth expanse of skin, delighting in the feel of it as he massaged her back. She made a soft sigh of pleasure, relaxing her muscles and resting her hands gently against his hips. With something like reverence, he encouraged the straps of her dress and undergarment to slip off the edge of her shoulders. They fell down her arms slowly as he continued to rub the nape of her neck, to trace the line of her collarbone. He licked his lips and swallowed as the pert swell of her breasts came into view. Oh  _god_ how he'd always dreamed of touching them, and now he  _could!_

He slipped his hands under her arms so he could place them against her sides, then stroked upwards, gliding across her ribs until he reached her upper torso. With barely restrained eagerness, he took the hanging fruit in hand, wrapping his fingers around each boob and lifting. Her eyes drifted closed and she made a noise akin to a purr. They had a curious weight to them, and a soft, giving consistency that made him just want to... knead. And squeeze. And press, and pull, and jiggle, and maybe he should have let her unzip his pants after all because they were  _painfully_ tight. He loosened his grip and let his hands slide down, accidentally brushing over her nipples in the process.

She gasped cutely, her bosom trembling with the sudden movement.

Oh. That was... maybe he should try that again. He trailed his fingers down the little nubs of flesh and she shivered. He began to brush back and forth over them with his thumb, and her lips parted as her toes flexed and curled beside his legs. Feeling a trifle embarrassed, he craned his neck down and flicked his tongue over a tit. Her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't open her eyes to look at him funny.  _It's totally normal to want to do this, right?_ he fretted as his face grew hot.  _It's not weird or anything, I hope?_ Face as red as a tomato but determined not to stop now, he took the teat in his mouth and sucked. She didn't object, merely tightened her grip on his hips. If anything, she was breathing faster now.

_Oh god I really really need to get these pants off!_

Mouth still wrapped around her, he let his hands slip down to his zipper. She moved her arms out of the way and rose up obligingly on her knees to give him room, which also raised her chest to a more comfortable level. Fumbling clumsily at the fastenings, he wriggled his clothing down past his hips, giving his swollen dick freedom. Not that freedom was what it wanted, exactly. But it was a step in the right direction. Losing his focus, John stopped sucking for a second. Her nipple slipped from his mouth, grazing his giant goober teeth in the process.

Rosester gasped, clinging tightly to his arms.

_W-was that a good thing?_ Cautiously, he tried it again, sucking the nub in and out so it brushed between his tongue and front teeth with each pass. She whimpered, her gloved fingers digging into his flesh as she trembled against him. John's heart soared as his Sexterity Gambit climbed to new heights. As her knees weakened, she shifted inevitably lower, forcing his head to follow as she sank back onto his lap. Something hot and wet brushed against his manhood.

John had just enough sense to let go before he could accidentally bite her.  _Holy fuck a girl is practically sitting on my naked dick holy shit oh my god!!!_ He struggled to stop spazzing out like an easily excitable virgin. Which he totally was, but anyway!  _Shit, what do I do next?_

He didn't have to fret over that for long, because Rosester pushed her hands against his chest and forced him to lay back across the bed, his feet still flat on the floor. At some point she had finally slipped her arms from her fallen clothing, and now she leaned over him, half naked, breasts swaying hypnotically as she moved. Somehow he managed to tear his eyes away long enough to look into hers, and the heavy-lidded lust that smoldered within her pink and green gaze sent a jolt of electricity straight to his loins. She smiled seductively at him as she shifted her legs, and then that moist warmth was pressing against the side of his length and John temporarily forgot how to breathe.

_GIRLPARTSGIRLPARTSGIRLPARTSohmygodshutup! Keep it together John!_

The muscles in her legs and abs flexed as she slid across the surface of his swollen skin, leaving a trail of slickness behind that quickly grew chill in the air despite the way it inflamed him. She slid down again and repeated the motion, and it was as if she hit every pleasure-producing nerve in his body. With a gasp, he remembered that oxygen was necessary for life, and therefore sex, and suddenly he was panting. Heat and cold competed for dominance, and both lost to the electric sensation of touch as she glided smoothly across his dick from one end to the other, now slippery with her own juices. John's eyes rolled back into his head as his hands fisted into the bedsheets. Now it was his turn to tremble, and he struggled to swallow as his mouth dried out from breathing so hard. Oh  _god_ that felt good. Really _really_ good.

_Shouldn't I be doing something?_ the distant thought came.  _Something about... mangrit? Oh, fuck!_ Jolting from his stupor, John remembered his promise and pried his fingers from the bed. He ran them firmly up her thighs and barely-covered ass, tracing as much of the hourglass shape of her body as he could reach. She purred as he reached her chest again, stroking the dark red skin where it had turned purple from his previous attentions. She stilled her motions, which was  _torment_ , but it gave him enough focus to prop himself up on his hands, applying his mouth to her tempting flesh once more. She squeaked, and he was almost certain he could feel her racing heartbeat through his lips. 

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/12265911598)

He tried nibbling gently against her nipple and she whimpered, grinding against his lap in a way that made him sweat. He lathed around her with his tongue, no longer trusting his control on his teeth now that she was moving against him again. Shaking badly from the odd angle he was in, he finally collapsed back onto the bed and she followed a second later, kissing him hotly. She wriggled her legs as she shifted higher, and all of a sudden John realized that the head of his dick was pressed up against something he really,  _really_ wanted to get more intimately acquainted with. Every muscle in his pelvis twitched with the desire to buck.

She pressed against him, warm and drenched and promising, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Taking advantage of his feet still being on the floor, he thrust upwards, and the first hint of tightness closed around the tip of his length. She gasped into his mouth, giving up on kissing to pant hot air over his lips instead. He thrust again, trying to get his swollen head past that initial resistance. The pressure was almost painful, and he feared it was for her, too, judging by the way her brows drew together. But the pain was also pleasure, and with another thrust he plunged up inside of her, and  _FUCK!!_

_Ohgodohfuckohgod no one told me it would feel like this!!_ It was like coming home to a warm, toasty house after a walk in the freezing cold, like plunging into vat of jello, like sinking into a puffy white cloud, like touching your tongue to a 9-volt battery, like being drizzled with honey and soaking it all up, and like rolling up into a snug, silky blanket all at once. John was almost positive he had just made the most embarrassingly erotic wail in the world, but was comforted by the throaty moan Rosester was making in return. She sank down upon his shaft as if she were swallowing him up, her glowing green outline surging with new life, flickering like foxfire in the night.

Heaven was every move she made. She had propped herself up slightly on her hands, her breasts just barely trailing over the skin of his chest as she sheathed him up to the hilt, then slid up again. John couldn't help but close his eyes, lost to the cacophony of delightful sensations. He bit his lip, then let it go when he couldn't get enough air with his mouth closed. He let his head fall back, neck exposed, and his arms splayed numbly across the bed in total surrender.  _Oh god oh fuck oh god she could plunge a blade through my heart right now and I would bleed out with her name on my lips in worship!_

Straightening up a little more, she began to ride him like a cowgirl, her soft cheeks slapping against his thighs as she swallowed him up, her breasts bobbing with each stroke. Fireworks obscured his vision as she squeezed and stroked him up and down, hitting every sweet spot, rubbing over every eager nerve. His skin was tugged and stretched in perfect unity as he squelched in and out of the narrow passage, and before he knew it he was trembling and drenched in sweat.

_Fuck fuck fuck you've gotta hold it together, John, for the lady!_ Swallowing hard, he lifted his head up enough to gaze upon her beautiful face. Her eyes had drifted shut, all her concentration on what she was doing and the sensations she must be feeling. Her face was flush and glistening, her hair clinging to her forehead, a few strands swaying in the air that escaped from her parted lips. He wished he could sit up and kiss those lips, but he wasn't sure he had the strength anymore. At least he could still lift his arms. Determined not to let himself go off until she had, John reached up and began fondling her chest once more.

_Why did I even stop?_ With delight that was  _entirely_ focused on pleasing her and had  _nothing_ to do with his own self gratification, he pawed all over her bosom and tweaked her stiffened nipples. With a whimper her rhythm and angle changed, sliding over him even faster, but more shallowly. John's brows drew together in something like a pout. He really liked it when she took him all in! But she was kind of distracted, understandably. Maybe he could just kinda... help out? Bracing his feet against the floor again, he thrust up with his hips at the same time she was coming down.

She squealed at the same time he gasped, his balls slapping against her as he went in deeper than ever before.

_HOLY FUCK DO THAT AGAIN!_

Trying his best to match her rhythm, he met her halfway again and again, his hands only occasionally remembering that they had been doing something too. She was moaning, like, really _moaning_ , little noises of delight cut short by each erratic, labored breath she took. Her skin was growing hot in his hands, darkening with the flush of pleasure. She was riding his shaft with abandon now, her aura like a roaring green fire that could not be put out and was burning her up alive. Just as he thought she couldn't grow any hotter, her slippery, inviting insides contracted all around his dick, and John's mind was blown.

“Oh fuck, Rose, holy fucking god! _Rose!_ ” He could feel his balls draw close as he was squeezed incredibly tight, over and over even as she continued to stroke him up and down. There was absolutely no way he could hold out any longer. With ragged panting he began to shoot his load, surging pulses of come firing up deeply inside her. Still her body grasped and squeezed and pulled, demanding that he give it all up, milking him for every last drop, refusing to let him go. His arms collapsed upon the bed once more, useless limbs that couldn't even hold themselves up. He felt like all his strength was leaving his body through a single, concentrated point of pure euphoria. John Egbert was no longer a virgin, and he was never, ever going back.

She at last grew still, inside and out, and shifted her weight to lounge across his chest. He struggled to open his eyes; they seemed to weigh a ton. She smiled at him so sweetly, so flushed, so green green _green_ ; she was positively glowing with the color, enough to light the entire room. He grinned weakly at her radiance.

“Did I do good?” he rasped tiredly.

She stroked his wild black hair. “You were _wonderful_ ,” she purred, like a contented cat.

John beamed, feeling proud of himself. He basked in the light of her radiance for a while, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. “Hey,” he finally remarked, slowly. “I can understand you now!”

She giggled. John had the vague feeling that he was being made fun of, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what for. After a moment, he tried to lift his arms so he could stroke the length of her back, but they refused to move. Puzzled, he tried to shift his feet, but the most he could manage was a wiggling of his toes. He could barely even shift his head from side to side.

_Man, I know they say a guy feels tired after sex, but this is ridiculous!_

“Rose,” he whispered softly. “I can't move.”

“You don't need to,” she said reassuringly, and her voice was so lilting and gentle that it calmed all his worries, hushed all his thoughts. “Just stay here. I will take care of you, John. You don't need to do _anything_.

Just

lay

here

with

me.”

It occurred to John, not for the first time, that Rosester had beautiful eyes, so deep that he could get lost in them and never find his way out. “Okay,” he heard his lips saying distantly. He couldn't think of any reason why he should answer differently. She rewarded him with another one of those heart-stealing smiles, then lowered her head against his shoulder, nuzzling into the folds of his hood as she got comfortable. She still hadn't slid off of his softening member, and it was quite happy to stay snug in her embrace. His clothing was unpleasantly damp with sweat and growing cold, but she provided plenty of warmth to counter it. Her body rose and fell slightly with each breath he took, and her own breath blew soft and pleasant across his neck.

John's eyes drifted shut. Still joined to the woman above him, he slipped into the world of dreams.

* * *


	4. Heal Me

The endless expanse of space stretched out for as far as the eye could see, black and starless and empty. Jade couldn't explain why she often found herself laying on the roof of the labs, hands crossed over her stomach as she stared at the void where the troll session used to be. There was nothing to see, aside from the shifting, distant shapes of horrorterrors. No stars populated the distance, no puffy white clouds drifted slowly by. In a way, it was actually more claustrophobic than the endless metal corridors. But it was quiet, and no one else ever came here, so it was a great way to escape distractions and just think.

Usually, anyway.

“So this is where you've been hiding,” Jadester said as she stepped out on the roof. “You're a hard woman to find, you know.”

“You were looking for me?” Jade asked curiously, her head tilted back to look at the figure standing behind her. “I kind of thought you'd be sick of me by now.”

“I will admit, your scientific projects hold little interest for me, and that's all you wanted to talk about, _all day_.” She settled gracefully beside her on the roof as Jade sat up, until the two of them were in identical poses, leaning back on their arms. Jade couldn't help but think that her Trickster made the position look cooler, though. “But that doesn't mean I wouldn't be interested in talking about something else. We're the same person, and yet we're different. Doesn't that intrigue you at all?”

“Oh, it does! I would love to explore the differences between us!”

“There, you see? We can talk about about that. You'll get to satisfy your scientific mind, and I'll get to probe you for juicy tidbits.”

Jade shifted, pleased but embarrassed. “I don't think you'll find anything all that interesting.”

“What, no skeletons in your closet?”

“Nope! None that I can think of, anyway!”

“Hmmmm.” Jadester's perpetually heavy-lidded eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “What about romantic entanglements, then? Any of those fine gentlemen catch your eye? Or, perhaps... gentlewomen?”

Jade tittered with nervous laughter. “Aha ha ha, not really. I mean, I've been pretty preoccupied with my experiments and stuff.”

“Really,” she said, the faintest hint of smug disbelief coloring her voice. “You wouldn't lie to me, would you? You strike me as an honest person, and I'd hate to think you're fooling yourself.”

Jade squirmed uncomfortably. “Well... I mean... it is pretty much implied that Dave and I have to get together at some point.”

“Oh? And how do you feel about that?”

Her brows drew together. “I... well... it's complicated.”

“How so?”

Jade opened her mouth and closed it several times, then gave up and remained silent. She hung her head and pulled up her legs, hugging them close. Jadester watched her expressionlessly for a few moments before taking pity on her.

“Yeah, that sounds pretty complicated, alright.” When Jade peeked up at her, she was smiling. “Relax, it's not like you have to answer anything. Why don't you ask _me_ questions, instead?”

She uncurled slightly. “Okay. Well. How about you? Do you have any romantic entanglements?”

Jadester leered. “Maybe not _romantic_ , exactly. I've been with all three of those losers, though.”

“Been?” Jade stared. “When you say _been_ , do you mean... you've...?”

“Screwed their brains out? Yeah.”

Jade choked, then went into a coughing fit. Jadester chuckled as she watched her try to pull herself back together. “You! You've... slept with all of them?!”

“Should I not have?”

“You're barely two days old!”

“It was boring in the mirror.”

“Even _Johnster?_ ”

“God, I think he was my favorite. Such a needy little bitch.”

“Isn't he your brother?!”

“Actually, you could probably say we're _all_ siblings. I mean, we were all born when John created us.”

“ _That doesn't help your case_.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I... don't know!” Jade rubbed at her reddening cheeks, bumping her glasses crooked. “I just... jeez!” She wrapped her arms around her legs again and stared blankly at the fabric stretched over her knees. “I knew we were different, I guess I just didn't realize _how_ different.”

“How so?”

Jade pouted and began to pick at imaginary lint, clamming up again. Jadester shrugged and decided to lay back, pillowing her head on her arms. She crossed one leg over the other, the slits of her dress showing off her green-clad thighs. “Suit yourself,” she said, without a care in the world.

The silence stretched interminably between them.

“It must be nice,” Jade said softly.

“Hmm? What, the sex?”

“To be so... I don't know. Confident?”

“Can't help it, baby, I was born this way.”

Jade snorted, and they were quiet again. Jadester's foot bobbed to its own rhythm, but beyond that the roof was deadly still. Or at least, it was until Jade's shoulders started shaking. To the Trickster's increasing surprise, she caught the sound of a sniffle, then the glimmer of unshed tears in the corner of the other girl's eye.

“Hey. What's wrong?” she asked in bewilderment as she sat back up.

“I...” she struggled to speak with a tightening throat, “I think I'm broken.”

“What? Why?”

Tears were escaping now and her voice had gone all wonky, but she plowed through anyway. “We all have our issues, you know? From how we grew up, or over our guardians. Just little things that seem to have magnified ever since we lost the game. John throws up if he eats something sweet, Dave passes out at the sight of blood, Rose goes apeshit over addictions, and I...”

“Yes?”

“I'm the Witch of Personal Space,” she said with a bitter little laugh. Jadester's eyebrows climbed up her forehead as she continued. “Apparently, growing up on an island with no physical human contact does funny things to you. I'd always _longed_ for hugs, kisses, all the casual touches that parents give their children because they love them, or friends give each other because they're buddies, or lovers give to show affection. I remember spending some nights in tears because I wanted a loving touch so bad! Bec would try to nuzzle against me during those times, but it just wasn't enough! Sometimes I would hug Grandpa, but of course he never hugged back, never patted me on the head. When I dreamed of Prospit, I sometimes went to John's tower and hugged him so tight I was amazed he could still breathe, but he still wouldn't wake up. I made a few Prospitian friends, but they didn't really understand the concept of platonic touch, and their skin was hard and cold, anyway.

“So naturally, when I got to meet Dave in person for the first time, I was pretty hopeful, you know? But he's too cool for hugs, and I was too nervous to initiate one, so we just hunted frogs side by side. And then, when we lost the game and sought refuge with the trolls, and we all met up together for the first time, there were lots and _lots_ of hugs! Okay, it was mostly John's fault, but he got everyone else going, and soon it was a great big group hug! Arms were everywhere, chests were bumping, faces were smooshed up against faces, and I was somewhere in the middle of the whole pile.

“And that's where it all went wrong.” With a sigh, Jade rested her forehead on her knees. “It was just too much at once, too much of a jump in extremes. I was absolutely terrified. Suddenly I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't hear. When I came to, I was curled up in a little ball on the ground, and everyone was crouched down and trying to comfort me—by feeling my forehead for fever, or rubbing my arms. I screamed ' _stop touching me!_ ' as I shook and cried, cringing away from their hands. They were so confused! I was so embarrassed afterwards. 

“Rose worked out a therapy plan for me, a much more gradual introduction to physical contact. I'm a lot better now; I don't jump at an unexpected touch, and I love to pounce on John and give him hugs! But he can only hug me back if I see him coming, and I still don't like to be surrounded. That's why I always sit at the _end_ of the table.”

She finished with a ragged breath. Jadester stared at her with an unreadable expression, painfully quiet. After an uncomfortably long moment with no reaction, she lifted her hand, pointed one finger, and moved it very slowly toward her original. Jade watched the finger neutrally as it approached, her eyes crossing as the digit finally came to a stop right at the tip of her reddened nose.

“Boop.”

Jade couldn't help it. She laughed.

“ _What?_ ” Jadester asked, her lips twitching into a smile.

“I'm sorry,” she giggled, an enormous grin revealing her over-sized front teeth. “I think that's the least cool thing I've heard you say.”

“They can't all be winners,” she said with a shrug, withdrawing her hand. “So, guess this is the source of your 'complications' with Dave?”

“Mostly,” Jade confessed. “It's not that I don't like him or anything, but I'm _scared_. I just _know_ that if we ever tried to do anything, I would flake out, and that makes it pretty hard to get interested in the first place.”

“Perhaps you can ease into it, like you did before?”

“ _Sex_ therapy?” Her face glowed bright red. “Oh geez, I can't ask anyone for that!”

“Why not?”

“Because! I mean... even for the purposes of therapy, that's really, really intimate! I'm not ready for something like that yet!”

“When will you be? When they toss you and Dave together in a room and say 'get busy, for the sake of humankind?'”

“Pfffffft, they wouldn't do that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, actually.” Jade leaned back on her hands again, looking sad. “The more I think about it, the more I don't think we're going to be repopulating anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“What point would there be? We're stranded in the middle of nowhere. We could barely afford to feed ourselves, until John created your mirror. We're just waiting for the day that Noir finally finds our hideout and obliterates us all. The others don't believe me, because we're still alive after all this time, but I'm convinced that we're in a doomed timeline.”

Jadester's eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“That our days are numbered. That we have no future. That somewhere out there, in another timeline, our alpha-selves are doing awesome things and have probably won the game and have a fantastic new planet and are living happy lives where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“I know, right? I hate to think that we're just sitting here, waiting for our time to expire.”

“That too. I just got here, I don't want to leave yet!”

“Well, depending on how we die, there's at least a chance you Tricksters will get to live on!”

“Yeah, I doubt that. So back to the issue at hand, tell me, Jade: do you masturbate?”

Somehow Jade's hands managed to slip out from under her, sending her sprawling across her back. She sat back up again in a hurry, her dark hair a bit disheveled from the tumble. “ _What?_ Why on Earth do you want to know _that?_ ”

“It's perfectly scientific, I assure you. I'm trying to figure out if you at least have an interest in sex.”

“I'm not—I mean, I...” She toyed with a lock of hair, twisting it furiously around a finger. “Doesn't everybody masturbate?” she muttered, rather flushed.

“So you're okay with your own touch?”

“Of course, why wouldn't I be?”

“It's the touch of other people that makes you nervous and drains your confidence, but you can't get sex therapy because intimacy with another is still too big a step.”

“...yes?”

Jadester smiled predatorily. “I think I have a solution to your dilemma.”

Jade's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” she murmured, sliding a little bit closer. “What you need is an intermediary. Something a few degrees more removed than your own hands, but not so frightening as an entirely different person. I trust you get where I'm going with this?”

Jade stared at her unblinkingly, then nodded very slowly. “You?”

“Me.”

She resumed twirling her hair, more slowly. “Why?”

Jadester cocked her head. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I don't know. You just seem like a person who's got it all together. Why bother investing the time it will take to fix me?”

Jadester gave her that condescendingly affectionate look she was so good at. “There you go, putting yourself down. Have confidence, Jade, you have so much potential! Besides,” she purred, leaning even closer, her lips dangerously close. “it will be time well spent. I expect to greatly enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

She hovered there, a breath away, while Jade struggled with conflicting emotions that simultaneously desired and feared to receive a kiss. She knew that if Jadester moved any closer she would recoil, but she wished she would do it anyway.

“Still frightened?” she whispered. Jade nodded shakily. “How about this, then? I promise I won't move an inch. Instead, why don't _you_ do what _you_ want?”

She blinked in surprise. True, taking the lead and controlling how much touch she gave or permitted others to give her had been an effective part of Rose's contact therapy. She wondered why it hadn't occurred to her that the strategy could be reapplied. Perhaps because she'd always just assumed that Dave would be her partner in this, and he seemed like the type to take the lead? Brushing those thoughts aside, she concentrated instead on the person in front of her. True to her word, Jadester was holding perfectly still, not even blinking. If it weren't for the blonde hair, she could be staring in a mirror, or at a picture of herself. It was an odd feeling, but she tried to hold on to it. The less she thought of her as a separate person, the less fearful she became.

Feeling oddly excited and adventurous, she leaned forward and placed a chaste but lingering kiss on the other girl's lips. Pulling back, she flushed with her accomplishment. “I did it!”

“You sure did,” Jadester replied, her tone so dry that Jade couldn't tell if she was mocking her or not.

“What, I have to start somewhere,” she pouted.

“That you do. And I'm willing to help you every step of the way! But I just wanted to remind you, one-way affection by itself isn't going to serve you much benefit.”

“It isn't?”

“Not unless you want to be a completely controlling dominatrix who doesn't allow others to touch back.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a little while. “Is that an option?”

Jadester snorted and grinned, the most genuine one Jade had ever seen her make. “My, aren't you full of surprises! Perhaps we're not so different after all. Different paths, same results. I'll have to file that information away for later,” she muttered. “For now, though, let's return to the task at hand; your first sex therapy session. I want you to kiss me again, Jade, but this time I'm going to kiss back. Think you can handle that?”

She shifted a little, uncertain but not wanting to back out. “You still won't move otherwise?”

“Promise.”

“I... okay.” With a look of intense concentration, she steeled her nerves and leaned forward again. Lips made contact, and though Jadester did tilt her head a little, she otherwise stayed perfectly in place. Soft skin caressed her own, and Jade found herself mirroring the movements without conscious thought, simply trying to learn what to do from someone with more experience. Someone who was merely a more knowledgeable version of herself. Someone with such a relaxed demeanor that Jade barely felt any nervousness about trying her patience. There was just something about her that seemed... what was the word she was looking for?

Oh yes. Nonthreatening.

Jadester brushed her tongue against her lips, just once, the only change in their kiss. To Jade's surprise, she didn't tense up. It merely felt like a suggestion, as if she were saying “here's something else you can try, if you feel like it. Totally up to you.” Even more surprisingly, she  _did_ feel like trying it. So she gingerly licked at her copy's lips, and they parted in invitation. Uncertain of what to do next, Jade let her tongue peek inside, gingerly tapping and jumping away from anything she bumped into, like it might bite. Again, though, the Trickster stayed perfectly still, until she felt brave enough to trail her tongue over the polished line of teeth, as if she were hunting for a light-switch in the dark.

She prodded Jadester's tongue, more intentionally this time, and it tapped playfully back. Amazed at her own calmness, Jade allowed her to venture into her own mouth, where she copied her actions exactly. It felt very strange to have something foreign sweep over her teeth and tickle her gums, but not unpleasant. Before she knew it, they were engaged in some kind of game, copying each other's movements and occasionally wrestling for dominance. As the last lingering vestige of fear left her and Jade began to relax, she even felt a bit of heat color her cheeks.

She pulled away finally, grinning goofily and tucking her hair behind an ear. “How was that?”

“Mmmm, very good,” her copy replied, licking her lips. “See, you're braver than you give yourself credit for. I bet you'd even be ready to try the next step tonight.”

Jade swallowed, wanting very much to live up to those expectations but unable to help the way she tensed back up at the prospect. “Oh. Uh. W-what  _is_ the next step?”

“It's _very_ simple,” she said with that oozing voice. “Touch me, and I'll mirror you. You'll have _complete_ control. The only limits are the ones you set yourself, in real time. Touch me however _you_ want to be touched.”

Jade stared at her fingers, which were twirling her hair again with gusto. “Do I have to—I mean, does it have to be a, uh,  _sexual_ touch?” Suddenly, her own halting speech reminded her of a troll she never got to meet in person, and she abruptly stilled her hands.

“Of course not. You're in control, remember? You should eventually steer in that direction, but that doesn't have to be anytime soon. Go at your own pace. Build up your confidence.”

_Confidence, huh?_ For the first time, Jade felt like she truly understood the uncertain boy who had been responsible for her Grandpa's death. Confidence was an easy thing to talk about for those who already had it, but so much harder to come by when it was lacking.  _I want to have it, though. I hate feeling this way._

“Okay,” she said, before she could think about it too much and make this even harder for herself. “I'll try.”

“Excellent,” Jadester purred. “You're such a good girl.”

With a slight blush at that remark, Jade repositioned herself and got comfortable. She raised a hand hesitantly, then flinched back before she could help herself when Jadester lifted hers as well.  _Get it together, you knew she was going to!_ After a moment's indecision, she decided to start with the lips, because they still tingled with the lingering sensation of touch. It would be less of a shock, in other words.

Jadester's lips were soft and warm. Her fingers, against her own lips, were cool in comparison. With a light touch, she trailed across the bridge of the other girl's nose, slid over her cheek underneath the rim of her thick-rimmed glasses, followed the line of her cheekbone back down to her chin, and drifted across her jawline on the other side. When she reached her earlobe she traced up and over the shell, examining the curling shapes of skin that made up the folds of her ear. It felt so strange to be touching another person like this, felt strange to  _be_ touched like this. She couldn't seem to maintain the illusion that she was merely touching herself, because she  _didn't_ touch herself like this, like she was exploring an unfamiliar stretch of skin. On the other hand, Jadester was doing such a good job of mimicking her, down to every hesitant pause, that she couldn't quite shake the illusion, either.

She wondered if Jadester was so good at staying in sync because they were essentially the same person, or because she had come from a mirror. With her thoughts safely distracted by science, she let her hand trail down her neck, feeling the gentle pulse under her fingertips. She was pretty certain her own heart was beating a lot faster than that. Since they were both wearing strapless dresses, it was an easy matter to trace each other's collarbones, cup a hand over each other's bare shoulders, and stroke the skin unhindered down to each other's elbows.

_Well, this isn't so bad_ , Jade thought. _Not much different from the touch therapy I already had._ Which only went to prove, she realized sadly, that she wasn't pushing herself enough. If she really wanted to gain anything from this, and not waste Jadester's generous efforts, then she needed to push her boundaries! Biting her lip in trepidation, she let her hand slip from Jadester's elbow to her waist instead. The other girl did the same.

_There is a hand on my waist_ , her brain said stupidly. 

_Duuuurrrrrrr, you put it there! I mean, she put it there. 'Cause you put it there. 'There' being her waist, not yours. Well,_ her _there is your waist, but_ your _there is her waist, and... and what the actual fuck are you going on about???_

_Seriously, just... stop thinking already. Jeez!_

Determinedly keeping her mind blank, Jade allowed her side to be stroked, let her stomach be prodded, and permitted her leg to be caressed, all by her own command. She was _not_ relaxed. But, and she hoped this counted as more important, she wasn't panicking, either. She wasn't even afraid, really. It was just _different_. Outside of her comfort zone, but not unpleasant. Jadester's touch was gentle ( _of course it is, because_ you're _being gentle!_ ) and, without the fear of the unexpected ( _how could it be, she's just copying you!_ ) Jade was finding herself reminded of the days when she desperately longed for touch. Letting her eyelids drift closed, she tried to recall that feeling.

Loneliness. Hopefulness. Despair. Desire. This was what she'd always wanted, but had grown too accustomed to not having. As she let her mind drift into memory, she grew bolder, daring to let her hand trail over the top edge of Jadester's dress where it followed the curve of her breasts, dared to trace teasingly around them before sliding away to less erogenous areas. She felt the touch herself, of course, but instead of shying away she felt... like it wasn't enough? For the first time, she brought her other hand into the exercise, petting her companion across the chest while she did the same. She pouted; the thick fabric dulled the sensation too much to really get excited. No doubt the same was true for Jadester.

_I wonder what this feels like for her?_ she suddenly wondered.  _I mean, obviously it's the same, physically, but while I know what I'm going to do before I even do it, she has no idea. She's pretty much given me an open invitation to do anything to her, on the assumption that her reciprocation will keep me in check._

With her eyes still closed, she stroked Jadester's thighs, rather more firmly than before. It felt pretty good in return, of course, but that was no longer what she was after. It had occurred to her that Jadester's dress had very high slits while hers had none at all, and she was suddenly filled with the wicked desire to test her limits.

She slid her hands up her legs again, but this time she began to favor the inside of her thighs instead of the out, slipping underneath her dress. Jadester tried to copy the motion, but it was impossible. Jade's dress was folded securely around her knees, the only opening near her feet, out of reach. Her lips twitching with a hint of mischief, she glossed over the green tights, following them up until Jadester's legs met her pelvis. Her thumbs slipped lower, and the sound of the Trickster's sudden draw of breath was unmissable.

Jade felt a rush of gratification at making a smooth player like that gasp. Entirely too proud of herself for breaking the rules, she began to stroke her thumbs up and down, ears sharp for every trembling breath, every swallow that she might be provoking. She felt her face flush as she bit her lip in an effort not to grin. Dying to look, she finally opened her eyes.

Jadester was staring back at her, but she did not look flustered. She looked _smug_.

Jade suddenly felt very silly, foolish, and embarrassed. She withdrew her hands, but Jadester caught them before she could hide them in her lap. “My, you're coming along even more quickly than I'd hoped!” she said in a sultry tone. “Already trying for the next lesson, even.”

“W-what's the next lesson?”

“You go first, and _then_ I repeat. A delay between reciprocation.”

Jade stared at her, then felt her face grow terribly, terribly red. “Oh. Um. I-I-I don't think I'm quite, that is, I mean...”

“Oh, don't worry. I think you've made _great_ progress tonight. We can save that for our next session, of course.”

“Oh.” The temporary relieve did not make her feel any better. In fact, she was certain that the fear would return as the anticipation built up, transforming the time of their next session into some kind of impending doom. “I'm not sure--!”

Jadester suddenly leaned forward, fast as a viper, and planted a kiss across her lips. Jade squeaked in surprise, and the kiss quickly turned wet and hot as a tongue slipped in and ravished her mouth. Already flushed and off kilter, Jade found her heartbeat hammering in her ears as adrenaline set every nerve on edge and electricity rocketed through her body. Jadester released her hands and wrapped her arms around her body, and for no reason that she could explain, Jade copied the action. When their lips finally parted, Jade stared in helpless bewilderment at the brazen lust that swirled in those hazy hazel eyes, and could only wonder if there wasn't, in fact, desire mirrored in her own green orbs.

“I look forward to our next session,” Jadester whispered softly, stroking her hair. “And more importantly, I hope _you_ look forward to it, too.” Jade opened her mouth but no sound came out. The blonde smiled in amusement, then climbed to her feet. “But for now, it's late, and I'm going to bed. Don't stay up all night, my dear scientist.”

Jade nodded numbly and watched her sashay to the trapdoor that lead down from the roof. In a moment she was out of sight, leaving Jade alone once more with the vast starless expanse. She just sat there for a while, still in shock over everything that had happened and rather amazed at her own actions.

And surprised at how uncomfortably aroused she was.

* * *

Jadester licked her lips as she walked down the long spiral of steps, feeling refreshed. The other Tricksters would never have stood a chance against such a tough nut to crack. Let them have their easy targets, then. She would prove that she was simply the best there was.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a very odd affair. Though the trolls were pretty much the same as always, the humans were all out of sorts, those that bothered to show up at all. Dave had his headphones on and was ignoring everyone even more than usual. Jade was extremely preoccupied. Rose was late, and for once she hadn't fixed enough toast for two. John didn't show up at all. The Tricksters, however, were quite chipper.

“Jegus, did I miss something?” Terezi asked as she transported in, her mouth trying to curl into a surprise noodle. “It smells like angst and hormones in here.”

“Oh _please_ , Terezi, you can't possibly smell things like that,” Karkat growled.

“I can too!” she countered, and thus began their first squabble of the morning. Kanaya watched them with little interest, too busy pouting over the fact that Rose hadn't even noticed how healthy a breakfast she'd prepared for herself. She eyed the Tricksters plates, piled up with sweets, and sighed. Rosester had only popped in long enough to run off with a plateful, but the other three were still leisurely polishing off donuts that were slathered in icing and oozing out cream. Her own plate sat barely touched in front of her. She wasn't really hungry for _food_ today.

“Has anyone seen Sollux?” she asked after it became obvious that he wasn't going to show up. Everyone else was already drifting away from the table, back to their rooms or to their computers. She turned to Johnster. “Did he stay up all night poring through your code?”

He paused, licking a jam-covered finger and staring upwards in thought. “Probably. When I fell asleep, he was still going strong! Rosester might know, but she's already run off. Why, do you need his help for something?”

“In a manner of speaking. It's his turn to feed me today.”

“Feed you?” he asked, sliding out from the table as she rose to leave. “Didn't you just eat?”

She smiled as she moved toward the transportalizer and he fell in step beside her, eyes full of innocent confusion. “I am a rainbow drinker. I require more than fruits, vegetables, and the occasional baked good to survive.”

“Hmmmm,” Jadester cocked her head as she came up behind them, and the three of them reappeared in the transportalization hub. “Like what?”

“Blood.”

Johnster stood stock still for a moment, his eyes wide. “You... you're a  _vampire?_ ” he whispered, voice full of awe. 

Kanaya had to laugh a little at his reaction. She was rather surprised he didn't already know, actually, she could have sworn it had come up in conversation before. “That seems to be the word for the human variety, yes.” She gathered her bearings and stepped onto the pad with Sollux's symbol on it. Yet another set of lab walls and corridors took shape around her, and as she stepped off, the two Tricksters quickly reappeared behind her with a flash.

“That's soooo cool!” Johnster exclaimed giddily. “Can you turn into a bat? Does the sunlight burn you? Can you hypnotize people with your thrall? Can you--”

“Ah, no,” she hastily cut him off. “Rainbow drinkers aren't exactly the same. I actually prefer daylight, and as far as I know I'm not going to transform into any kind of small winged mammal. As for hypnotism, I have never figured out how to use such an ability, nor do I desire to. I have enough friends here who are willing to support me, and that is all I could ever ask for.”

“Oh.” Johnster appeared to deflate, like a child whose dreams had been crushed. Kanaya smiled sympathetically and tried not to laugh at his crestfallen appearance.

“I did come back from the dead, though, does that help?” 

“A real live undead creature, huh?” John giggled, his countenance returning to its sunny disposition. The two beamed at each other, and Jadester rolled her eyes.

They arrived at Sollux's quarters and Kanaya lifted a hand to knock politely on the door. “Sollux? Are you awake?” She waited patiently until it was evident that he hadn't heard, the tried again, louder. “Are you there? Sollux?”

Silence stretched around them. Kanaya frowned. “How odd. I thought he would be here. It's not like he's still in the alchemy room, we would have seen him when we got breakfast.”

“Maybe he's sleeping like the dead?” Johnster suggested.

“Maybe he went somewhere else,” Jadester cut in. “Does he have any other haunts?”

“Only the computer room, really,” the troll said with a frown. “But we already know he wasn't there. This is very unusual! Not to mention inconvenient.”

“Maybe you should skip to the next person?”

“I'd rather not. We made up a strict schedule so I wouldn't drain anyone too soon, before they'd recovered from last time.” She sighed. “I guess I should go back to my computer and try to message him. Perhaps something broke and he's out fixing it?” Jadester shrugged indifferently, and Kanaya found herself wondering why she was even there. Obviously the boy wanted to ask her questions, but the girl seemed only marginally interested. Was she... guarding her brother from the big scary rainbow drinker? Kanaya was uncertain if she should feel insulted, flattered, or if she was imagining things and just being silly.

“So what flavor is his blood?” Johnster asked excitedly as they turned to walk back down the corridor.

“I wouldn't know how to describe it,” she confessed. “Every blood color tastes different, but not like any flavor of food that I have encountered.”

“Really?” he asked, cocking his head. “Maybe you need to try more varieties of sweets.”

Kanaya stopped in her tracks, causing Johnster to run smack into her back. “Sorry,” she apologized half-heartedly, her mind racing. “I was just thinking... about what you said yesterday.”

“When?” he squeaked, rubbing his nose where it had collided with her head.

“At dinner. You said something about... sugar blood?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

She turned to face him, her gaze unusually intent. “Am I to understand correctly, then, that your blood is actually sweet?”

He laughed. “Well, of _course_ , isn't everybody's?”

“No, actually. Not at all. Not like desserts are.”

“Well, that's just silly! Everyone should be just as sweet on the inside as they are on the outside!” he declared as he batted his eyelashes outrageously. Kanaya couldn't help but laugh.

“Wouldn't that be nice?” she said with a wistful smile. “I could eat all the sweets I want, and Rose couldn't say a thing against it!” They giggled together for a moment, then were silent. Kanaya fidgeted as he stared at her expectantly. “Um. Johnster?”

“Yes?”

“I... would it be presumptuous of me... I mean, it seems that you four will be staying with us from now on, so it's only natural to assume that, at some point, you will be worked into the rotation. So forgive me for being so forward when we've practically just met, but... well...”

“Gosh, what is it, Kanaya?”

The slightest hint of jade green colored her cheeks as she stared to the side. “May I feed on you?”

There was a moment without response as he processed her request, then his blue eyes widened, showing off his peculiar red pupils. He clasped his hands together as he drew in an exaggerated breath of delight. “ _Really?_ Just like a real vampire? Oh, I'd _love_ it!” He bobbed excitedly up and down as she smiled at his endearing reaction.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take his hand. He handed it to her automatically, but when she lifted it toward her lips, he frowned and tugged against her grasp.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Feeding?”

“No no no, it _has_ to be from the neck!” he said with a pout. “And you have to seduce me first! Come on, don't you know anything about being a vampire?”

“I'm a rainbow drinker,” she corrected automatically as she stared at him in bewilderment, letting go. “Why would I want to seduce you? I wasn't proposing that sort of relationship, and you already stated that you are willing...”

“Okay, not _really_ seduce me. But you have to at least pretend! I love to play, Kanaya! Don't you know how to play?”

“Um.” Her mind suddenly flitted to the tawdry novels of forbidden passion with the undead that she used to immerse herself in before bed. _He doesn't mean... like_ that _, does he?_ Gingerly placing her hands on his shoulders, she struggled to recall a line that didn't seem too embarrassing. “Very well.” She coughed. “O-oh fair mortal, my place is with the heat and the burn of the great red sun. It is not a life for one such as you, still kissed by the pale green and pink light of the night's companions. I could not bear to take you with me into the cruel day.”

Johnster stared at her blankly for a moment, perhaps thrown off by the obvious references to a planet he'd never seen, but he adjusted quickly enough. “Please, you must!” he cried as he spun within her arms, pressing his back against her chest. “I can't live without you! I would sooner die than try it!” He swooned theatrically, the back of his hand against his forehead as he collapsed against her, his neck exposed. “Take me now, subcreature!”

Kanaya had to wince at the extreme corniness of it all. On the one hand, she could smell his blood from this close, and it really  _did_ smell sweet. On the other hand, she felt horribly embarrassed to be playacting out her old fantasies like this, even if she'd been imagining herself in the other role at the time. “I-is this really necessary?” she asked, breaking what little mood she'd managed to set.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/13034904313)

Johnster sagged in her arms, letting out a huff of a sigh. “Jeeeez, Kanaya, you're terrible at this!” He broke out from the ring of her arms, taking the wonderful smell with him. Her stomach grumbled with disappointment. “Jaaaaaadester,” he pleaded, turning to his mirror-sister. “Show her how it's done!”

The girl in question raised an eyebrow, then let her expression melt into something more sinister. “If you insist,” she hissed between barely parted lips, beginning to circle him like a shark. He giggled with glee before putting on a rather unconvincing timid expression, turning in circles in his attempt to keep her in sight. “What brings a pretty little thing like you out to a dangerous place like this?” she spoke slowly, her voice smooth. Johnster only needed a few seconds of thought before he slipped into his new role.

“I've run away from home! I refuse to shed another tear under that hated roof! I'm going to strike out on my own and find a new life!”

She chuckled darkly. “Ah, but my naïve young friend, don't you know that the world is full of those who would gladly steal your old one from you?” She circled closer, trailing a finger lightly across his torso.

“R-really?” he squeaked, then coughed and pitched his voice lower. “I mean, I knew that. But don't worry, I can take care of myself!”

“Can you, now,” she stated flatly. “Of course, of course, I didn't mean to doubt your abilities, forgive me. It's simply that... I've seen so many like you before. Always so full of hope and dreams. But they never...” She paused, then looked artfully away. “No, never mind. I shouldn't speak of them.”

“Why, what happened to them?” he asked apprehensively. Jadester smiled coldly and continued her story, never ceasing her circling, never lifting the finger that trailed over his skin.

“Oh, just... things never work out the way they planned. Despite all their pluck, they find stern faces everywhere they go. All apprenticeships are already taken. They cannot hold on to even the most menial of jobs. Their money dwindles day by day, and as each new dawn greets them with cold, aches, and hunger, they begin to think longingly of home. But pride is insidious, and they try to tough it out just a little longer. Better a few rough spots than a lifetime of regret, right?

“They try again, because the glowing coals of hope have not yet faded into ashes. Their persistence is spurned, their ignorance ridiculed in jeering tones of mockery. The last coin is spent, leaving them with only the frozen mud and the moon for company. From the wilderness, beings whisper and beckon, promising dark delights if you will only give up _everything_ , but you aren't ready to go that route. You know they are liars, you have always been told so. Instead, you try other avenues that you believe will be less harmful. 

“But you're _wrong_ ,” she whispered into his ear. He shivered all over, his gaze distant. Kanaya suddenly realized that Jadester had shifted from talking about _they_ to _you_ without her even noticing. “You thought your body was already defiled from the rotten things you ate in your desperation to quell your belly's unceasing agony, but you had _no_ idea. The hands you submit yourself to are as clawed as any beast's, and their cruelties defy your imagination. They take their foul pleasures out of you and throw you away, leaving you as soiled and empty and brittle as the broken eggshells from their decadent, unshared breakfasts.

“You crawl away, more deeply ashamed than you've ever felt in your life, and vow never to try that path again. As you hide your tears under the cover of darkness, the creatures who embody it call out to you once again, their sweet promises tickling at your ears. You whimper and cower until their voices melt away in the coming daylight. You're not as naïve as you once were.

“You take to thievery surprisingly well, and for the first time since you left home your stomach is full. When you cut another man's life short, you quell the fear and panic and go about your business, embracing the blackness that taints your heart as inevitable. The second kill is all too easy. You rise steadily in the eyes of those who reign over crime, and your crippled pride begins to breathe again with new life as you gain the respect of your disreputable peers. You have a family again, and though it can't compare in the slightest to your old one, you appreciate it more. You finally acquire fame and fortune, and even though it's infamy and blood-money, for the first time you feel that maybe, _just maybe_ , you've achieved your dreams after all.

“In retrospect, your should have seen your fall coming. Betrayal is nothing new to you anymore; you've done it several times yourself. As you flee for your life from the law and the ones you thought were your allies, shadowy faces haunt your vision like wisps of smoke. The forest is home to many villains, ones far older and more powerful than you, and the knowledge of their presence makes you run even faster. You flee until you reach places where your name is no longer known, and it is there that you try to lower your head and start a new life.

“A piece of land to call your own, to work the earth and farm its bounty. You labor under the heat of the summer sun and huddle by the fireplace during the long, cold, winters. Your loneliness eats away at you so you marry and start a family. The children grow, so full of hope and dreams, and you realize that you've come full circle, right back to the old life you wanted to escape from so long ago. But now you've grown old, your hands gnarled and leathery from harsh living. The innocence of your children only drives home the bitterness and guilt and regret that coat your shriveled heart like suffocating tar. But cruel life isn't done with you yet, and drought-fueled fire devours your farm, your home, and your family, leaving you with nothing but the realization that you _did_ love them, after all.

“You can't take it any more. You stumble into the wilderness, tears stealing what little sight your failing eyes still possess, seeking death. You call out to the dark creatures, the beasts, the immortals that have tried to seduce you at every wrong corner in your life, and you beg them to take you! But they are no longer interested. You are no pretty young thing full of life and energy anymore; you are a wrinkled, despairing old man, whose soul shriveled up and blew away in the dry winds long ago. They turn their backs on you and vanish, leaving you all alone in the painful silence with your grief.

“Even they would not consume you. But regret _will_. It fills your dusty old veins, rubs coarsely over your skin like grit. Oh, how you regret! With choking bitterness you curse every turning point in your life, curse the first time you murdered another man, curse the men who used up your body, curse the skilled workers who couldn't take on another student, curse the day you left home. You regret every day of your life. There is nothing beautiful in living. You wish you could have died when you were still naïve and beautiful.

“Yessssss. More than _anything_... you wish with all your heart... that you had given yourself to the creatures of darkness the first time they approached you. If only you had that chance again, you would surrender yourself in a heartbeat.”

Jadester looked up at Kanaya and jerked her head, as if saying  _well? Get over here!_ The troll gave such a start that her whole body spasmed, and she realized with something like shock that _she had been sucked in, too_. Shaking off the brief flush that stained her cheeks, she strode over to the two of them. Johnster had stopped spinning in place a while ago, mostly facing away from her, so she had no idea what kind of expression he was making. At Jadester's prompting she wrapped her arms around him from behind, just like before. He went completely limp at her touch, his head lolling back against her shoulder. In the faint luminescence of her skin she saw tracks of moisture glisten on his cheeks, and his eyes were dazed. With some difficulty he focused on her face.

“Please,” he whispered, so softly that she almost had to read his lips to make out the word. His breathing was shallow and erratic, his pulse racing visibly at the curve of his throat. “Please,” he begged, unable to even understand, much less describe, what it was he was begging for. Kanaya's eyes grew wider and wider as they darted over his unresisting form. She felt... strange. Logically, she knew that the boy was not her type. He was too, well, _male_ for her tastes. And yet, she couldn't deny that he looked absolutely pitiful right now.

But it wasn't a desire to take care of him that was welling up from within her.

Her fangs _itched_. Primal instincts boiled under the surface of her composed demeanor. She hadn't felt this way since she awoke from death with a gaping stomach wound that demanded to be filled. Something throbbed at the back of her mind, and she felt a curious certainty that if she focused on it, she could unlock powers she had never used before, had never  _wanted_ to use before. Her claws, nicely trimmed so she wouldn't tear up her gloves, strained against the fabric that enclosed them. Her grip tightened and Johnster let out a desperate little whimper, his eyes rolling back as he tried to expose as much neck as possible. It was stretched taut, creamy white, and trembling in the most tempting display she had ever seen.

_I wonder... if I could tell a tale like that, if I could cast such a spell..._

_Would Rose surrender herself like this?_

She lowered her mouth to his skin, licked it in anticipation, then pierced deeply into an artery with her teeth. Blood flooded into her mouth, a flavor so deliciously sweet that her tongue bathed in it with ecstasy. With each beat of his heart more of it gushed inside, and she was forced to swallow as quickly as she could, with no time to savor each precious drop like she'd like. It mattered little, as there was always more; the fragrance filled her nose, the taste was never-ending. No matter how much of the glorious liquid poured down her throat, there was always more, more,  _more!_

As the initial shock wore off, she became aware of the way Johnster was moaning, his muscles flexing as he tensed and relaxed by turns, writhing in her grasp. There was something almost erotic about it, and his muffled noises encouraged her to bite harder, clutch him tighter. He thrust his hips with desperation, finally drawing her notice to the fact that his human bone-bulge was throbbing for attention, but since she was behind him he had nothing to rut against. His arms were pinned within hers, and he sobbed as he realized that there was no way to gain relief. Some small part of Kanaya's mind that wasn't focused on the enjoyable task at hand wondered at his ability to become aroused when he had to be in incredible pain. She'd never bitten anyone this roughly before.

To her irritation, the blood wasn't coming quite as fast as before, now. Pressing her lips more firmly against his neck, she began to suck on the wound, trying to draw the icing-sweet flavor out of him. Johnster shrieked and spasmed, bucking ineffectually, his movements threatening to break him free of her grasp. She felt her claws rip through her gloves as she dug them into his arms. He wasn't going _anywhere_. Not until she had drained him of _every last drop_. 

It was at that point that she felt an impatient tapping at her shoulder. She tried to shrug it off, but it was quite insistent. With an irritated snarl, she finally slid her fangs out from her prey's skin and licked the wound, the coagulant in her saliva washing away the anticoagulant in her venom. When she turned her head to glare at the source of her interruption, she was actually surprised to see Jadester there. Her eyebrows shot up in confusion.

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill my brother off, eager though he might seem for the idea.”

Kanaya blinked. Stared at her. Glanced at the boy in her arms. Looked back at her. Then turned a vivid shade of shame-faced green. She snatched her hands away as if burned, then instantly regretted it when Johnster toppled over. His sister was ready, though, and caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Oh my goodness! I am so, _so_ sorry! I don't know what came over me! I swear I don't normally try to—he was just so—and it tasted so _good!_ ” She dropped to her knees beside them, hands hovering uncertainly as she watched the one Trickster cradle the other. “Oh, _no_ , is he... sh-should I get help? I should get help!”

“Relax, he's fine. No harm done, see?” She gave him a slight shake to get his attention, and he weakly lifted an arm and waved it. He looked terrible, all pale and sweating.

“I'm not entirely sure about that,” Kanaya responded a moment later, sounding stricken with worry.

“Nonsense, give him a little time, he'll bounce right back. We Tricksters are made of sterner stuff.”

“What _are_ you made of? His blood was _fantastic_. Do you all taste that good?”

Jadester grinned. “Of course. We each have our own unique flavor. For example, Davester tastes like cherry pips.”

“I've had some sweets with cherry flavors. They were delicious!”

“Rosester tastes like lead sugar.”

“I don't know if I've tried that yet or not. It sounds good, though.” Kanaya waited patiently, until she realized that Jadester wasn't going to continue. “What do _you_ taste like?”

She snickered. “My, aren't you forward!”

The troll blushed, realizing that she had walked right into that one. “I didn't mean... er.”

The blonde laughed. “I'm just messing with you. I taste like bitter almonds.”

“Those don't _sound_ good...”

“Actually they're quite popular, when prepared right.”

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the boy she had just drained, who had closed his eyes and snuggled into his sister's chest. “What is his flavor called?”

“Ah, he's the sweetest of us all. He tastes like antifreeze.”

“I don't think I've ever heard of that.”

“Does it get cold on Alternia?”

“Not on my home planet, no. I hear it's different in space. Why?”

“It's a substance most popular in cold places.”

“That explains it, then. Some kind of warming drink?”

Johnster grinned, cracking his eyes open just enough to meet his sister's gaze. She smirked back, like they were sharing some kind of private joke. Without answering, she shifted to her feet, dragging Johnster over and propping him up against the corridor wall. He slumped weakly against it. Kanaya rose to her feet as well, teetered woozily for a second, then regained her balance. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes as the length of the the hallway seemed to warp and shift.

“You okay? You're looking a little tipsy, there.”

“I... I'm fine,” Kanaya said after a moment, trying to shake it off. She looked up and down the endless length of the corridors in confusion. “Now... where was I going?”

“To Sollux's door. You were looking for him.”

“Oh yes. That's right.” With uncertain steps, she walked back to the door of his quarters, eventually stretching out a hand to the wall to steady herself. Upon reaching her destination she banged loudly against the metal surface, then growled as the noise pierced through her head like a dagger. Her head was aching. She decided to try pressing the door open button instead, but it was locked of course, and she didn't know the code. Another fit of dizziness hit her and she reeled, her claws scratching up the panel as she braced herself. “Sollux!” she shouted, then quickly dropped her volume with a wince. “Are you there? I need you to--”

She stopped abruptly, rubbing at her temples. “Wait. I don't need to find you anymore, do I? I already ate!” She giggled at her own silliness, then clutched her mouth as a wave of nausea suddenly washed over her.  _Fuck, what is wrong with me?_ With the world spinning around her, she staggered back the way she came, almost blinded by the way her eyes were twitching. Both hands on the wall for support now, she fought off vertigo and the desire to vomit as she shuffled forwards.

There were strange noises ahead, where she left the two humans. It sounded like Johnster was in pain. Plagued with guilt even as she was afflicted by sickness, she struggled to clear her mind and find out what was wrong.

At first she thought her eyes were deceiving her, not an odd conclusion to make at the moment. It appeared that Jadester was standing over him, pressing her foot firmly against his crotch. But his expression was one of bliss, and with another wail his blue shorts darkened with dampness, a pleasured flush staining his cheeks.

_What?_

Even with her thoughts scattered, Kanaya was certain that several things about that scene were wrong. Jadester looked up, and the troll realized that she had made her exclamation out loud.

“Well I had to do _something_ , you left him hanging there in such a state,” she responded calmly, pulling her foot away. With a strength unnatural for a girl her size, she lifted Johnster up by his god-hood and pulled him into an aggressive kiss, which he accepted with shameless eagerness. He steadied his feet underneath him and began to support himself, the unhealthy pallor of his skin starting to fade away even as Kanaya watched.

When their lips parted, Johnster's puffed up into a pout. “Can't you spare any more? I still feel really weak!”

“Go get your own,” she sneered. “You've got enough to heal the evidence, that's all you need.”

He sighed and leaned back against the wall. Kanaya took a step forward and stumbled to her knees, staring up blearily at them. “Wha...? I don't... underthtand...” she slurred.

“Oh, if only everyone was just as poisonous on the outside as they are on the inside!” Jadester said in a mocking tone, imitating her brother. “It's kind of a shame,” she continued normally, walking towards her and crouching down to look her in the eye. “You've got some great potential. But to be perfectly frank, we don't _need_ you. We can't _benefit_ from you. And we certainly don't want the _competition_.” She finished with a pointed jab at the troll's shoulder, causing her to topple the rest of the way to the floor. Kanaya panted against the cold metal, her breath coming too fast, too deep. Darkness crept in from the corners of her vision.

“Don't worry,” the voice continued, sounding muffled and distant. “I'll make sure to put you in a nice, quiet place so you can die in peace.”

Kanaya slipped into a coma, and knew no more.

* * *


	5. Hold Me

Rosester sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, out of the way of the soundly sleeping form beside her. John was snoring softly, a few flakes of powdered sugar lingering around his lips. A plate, empty but for a few broken donut pieces, sat on the floor on top of a stack of blue clothing. The room was dark, lit only by the eerie green light cast by the Trickster's aura. She was holding her hands up below her face, cupped around a ball of that light, staring intently into its flickering depths.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/13711503772)

An image was forming.

* * *

Rose sat in her room, needles clacking away. The length of knitted fabric she had completed sat in a pile in her lap. Every row was even, every stitch exactly uniform in size. But the cloth formed nothing. It was too long for a sweater, and too wide for a scarf. Reams of yarn had already been wasted as Rose worked mechanically away. By this point, she wasn't making anything at all.

But the stitches were perfect.

She was finally jerked out of her meditative state by a chime from the computer. She stared in surprise at the monstrosity in her lap, lips tightening as her eyes narrowed. The computer chimed again, and she shoved the yarn blob onto the floor with disgust as she relocated to her desk chair. A pesterchum window was open.

TG: hey  
TG: lalonde  
TG: you there  


She hesitated for a moment, unsettled by the sight of the familiar red text. Shaking it off, she reached for the keyboard with determination.

TT: Yes, I'm here, Strider. Is there something you need?  
TG: cant a guy just have a friendly chat with his sis  
TT: Is that what this is?  
TG: of course  
TG: why wouldnt it be  
TT: Well, we haven't really chatted much lately. At all.  
TG: yeah  
TG: about that  
TT: ...yes?  
TG: sorry  


Rose stared at the screen, her eyebrows slowly climbing into her bangs. Dave... apologizing? Struggling to keep her own emotions in check, she responded.

TT: Alright, spill.  
TG: spill what  
TT: Something is obviously bothering you. You only come groveling to me on your belly when you're at your wits' end and even losing yourself in your music doesn't help anymore.  
TG: i do not  
TT: I noticed you wore your headphones to breakfast this morning.  
TG: …  
TG: okay fine  
TG: i think  
TG: i mean  
TG: im having a relapse  


Her fingers froze above the keys. She and Dave hadn't  _really_ talked since she helped council him through his one-sided desire for John. He had been bottling up his anger at the boy for not returning or even noticing his affections, was frustrated with himself for not being in control of his own feelings, and had been terribly frightened that he was going to ruin their friendship. During that time Rose got to see Dave at his worst, and even though he was grateful to her for saving his relationship with John, he still couldn't help but resent her for it, just a little.

Rose had sacrificed gaining a closer relationship with her brother to stay as his therapist. Did it make her a bad person if, sometimes, she regretted it?

TT: I see.  
TT: What happened? You were doing so well.  
TG: i  
TG: well first we had that stupid fight  
TT: I remember. You stormed out after he created that mirror, and he followed.  
TG: yeah  
TG: we talked  
TG: we made up  
TG: crisis averted  
TT: But...?  
TG: i kind of  
TG: pounced on him  
TT: …  


Rose felt her heart clenching in her chest.

TT: Strider. Tell me you didn't kiss him.  
TG: no!  
TG: it was just a hug  
TG: but it was way too close and too long for a brohug  
TG: i guess i was a little shook up  
TT: And holding him tightly in your arms stirred up your feelings again?  


She smacked herself, flushing slightly. What kind of thing was that to type? The sensation of strong arms wrapped around her body once again plagued her memory. She shook the thoughts away almost desperately.  _No, I mustn't think about that,_ especially _while talking to Dave!_

TG: maybe a little  
TG: thats not what really caused the problem though  
TG: i could have recovered from that  
TT: Then what?  
TG: it was  
TG: well it was those damn tricksters  
TT: dskj  
TT: Sorry.  
TT: What?  
TG: i was just walking down the corridors  
TG: minding my own business  
TG: working up a good rhythm  
TG: when i stumbled upon johnster and my copy getting into some seriously sloppy makeouts  
TG: and i just kind of  
TG: fell apart  
TT: Wait.  
TT: With Davester?  
TG: yeah  
TG: he was even calling him by my name  
TG: fuck  
TG: why do you ask?  
TT: Because Davester  


Rose paused. She couldn't say it. She couldn't admit that she'd been kissed by her brother's copy.

TT: told me that he also kisses  


_Fuck!_ She couldn't tell him that Davester claimed to kiss _her_ copy, either.

TT: Jadester. Like that. But that it was just a goodnight kiss to him.  
TG: i don't think you quite understand  
TG: this was so far away from platonic you would have to take a 12 hour flight just to get there  
TT: No, I get it.  
TT: The Tricksters seem to have a very different definition of what's considered acceptable contact.  
TG: no kidding  
TG: but whether or not they find anything wrong with necking and frotting in the middle of a public corridor  
TG: thats not the point here  
TG: hearing johns voice begging me to give it to him rough has completely undone all your hard work  
TT: Oh.  
TT: Oh my.  
TT: And did Davester  
TT: comply?  
TG: fuck if i know  
TG: i made a strategic retreat after that point  
TG: by which mean i ran away with my tail between my legs  
TG: in a manner of speaking  


Suddenly Rose was envisioning Dave diving into his room, collapsing against the door with a flushed face and a prominent bulge in his pants. Her face reddened as her toes curled under her desk.  _No no no no think of something else anything else pick a subject go go go!_

TT: Do they mean anything by it?  
TT: I mean, the way they dress, the way they behave, they're obviously meant to be sexual creatures.  
TT: Do they realize that they're different from us?  
TT: Not that we're not sexual creatures as well...  
TT: It's just  
TT: Does it mean the same to them?  
TT: Do they have any idea of the effect they have on us?  
TT: Is it intentional or innocent?  
TT: We can hardly blame them for the way John made them.  
TT: But perhaps we need to take them aside and educate them?  
TG: lalonde  
TT: Otherwise they're going to maintain their current behavior patterns with no regard to our feelings on the matter.  
TG: did one of them mess with your head too  
TT: What?  
TT: No!  
TT: Why?  
TG: cause youre rambling like kanaya when shes flustered  
TT: I am not.  
TG: yeah sure whatever you say sis  
TT: …  
TT: Alright, fine.  
TT: I may be slightly unsettled.  
TT: Everything just feels like it's been turned upside down since the Tricksters arrived.  
TG: no kidding  
TG: breakfast hasn't been that uncomfortable since we first showed up in the veil  
TG: the silence was as pregnant as a mother grub taking a bath in a giant bucket of incestuous slurry  
TT: Please stop picking up metaphors from Terezi.  
TT: Also, how would you know? You had your headphones on the entire time.  
TG: how would you know  
TG: you were late to the show  
TT: At least I bothered to show up at all, unlike some people.  
TG: thank god  
TG: egbert is the last person i want to see right now  
TT: Where is he, anyway? It's unlike him to skip a meal.  
TG: he hasnt been online since yesterday  
TT: You don't suppose he's sick, do you?  
TG: …  
TG: yes   
TG: im sure that is exactly it  
TT: What.  
TG: geez lalonde are you really gonna make me spell it out for you  
TT: Spell what out?  
TG: hes only a normal teenage boy  
TG: a regrettably heterosexual  
TG: adorkable as fuck  
TG: normal teenage boy with normal teenage urges  
TG: who just created a bunch of hypersexual floozies  
TG: ask yourself  
TG: have i seen rosester lately  
TG: hmmm  
TG: …  
TG: lalonde  
TG: hello  
TG: hey  
TG: i was just joking  
TG: okay not really but still  
TG: are you  
TG: angry  
TG: fuck  
TG: hey  
TG: i thought you didnt care about him  
TT: Of course I care about him. He's my friend. A good friend.  
TG: you know what i mean  
TT: Yes, I do.  
TT: But this isn't about that at all.  
TG: whats it about then  
TT: I don't like her.  
TT: I don't trust her.  
TG: trust  
TG: you think she might be dangerous or something  
TT: I don't know.  
TT: But I'm going to check on him.  
TG: seriously  
TT: Seriously. I just want to make sure he's alright.   
TG: fine  
TG: whatever  
TG: ill meet you there  
TT: You don't have to come. I understand that the last thing you need right now is to walk in on the object of your affections when he might be engaged in sexual acts with another.  
TG: nah fuck that shit  
TG: if my bros in trouble then im gonna help him out  
TG: and if your copy really is dangerous im not gonna make you face her alone  
TT: How chivalrous.  
TG: i am the knight after all  
TT: Then let us face the possible danger together, dear brother.  
TG: see you there sis  


* * *

Rosester pursed her lips in displeasure. That conversation would ruin everything. True, she had enough power to hold her own now, but her comrades needed open minds to work with. If the others were suspicious, it would be near impossible to subdue them. With a flick of her wrists, the orb of light she had been peering into dissolved and vanished. Cupping her hands together, she opened them up to reveal another flickering green ball.

The Seer of Light peered once again into the realm of possibility.

* * *

Rose sat in her room, needles clacking away. A length of knitted fabric, useless in shape but perfect in stitch, sat in a pile in her lap. Her eyes were heavy and unfocused, her entire being lulled into a meditative state by the soothing work. At least, until a knock on the door jerked her back into the present. She glared at the monstrosity she had created, dumping it on the floor with disgust as she stood and crossed the length of the room.

“Kanaya?” she asked as she pressed the door-open button, fully expecting to see the softly glowing woman on the other side. “Took you long... enough...”

It was not Kanaya.

“Davester,” Rose spoke softly, slight apprehension in her voice. “Can I help you?”

“Hi Sis!” he replied, as cheery as he had been the night before. “I just wanted to hang out with you some more! May I?”

“Um.” Her lavender eyes turned to the side, unable to meet his direct gaze. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

His easy smile dropped away, replaced by a puzzled frown. “Why not?”

She bit her lip. “I... I'm just a little unsettled. I think you should stay away for a while, until I can get my feelings in order.” In the background, the chime of pesterchum messages went unheard, until the chum gave up and stopped.

“I can't help?”

“No, definitely not.”

He stared at her with a wide-eyed, vulnerable expression. “Did I do something wrong?” She merely rubbed her arms and didn't answer. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don't think you did it intentionally. Or at least, not maliciously. But I can't abide having desires like these for a sibling. I ask that you please not give me any more 'goodnight kisses' like that, and give me a little space for a while.”

“But!”

“I'm sorry, Davester. I enjoyed spending time with you yesterday, but for now, at least, please find someone else to hang out with.” Still unable to look him in the eye, she pressed the door-close button and stepped back. The door slid smoothly shut, hiding his stricken expression from view.

She stood there for a while, miserable and shaken, before she turned and took up her comfortable chair again. Freeing her needles from the knitted abomination, she picked out a different ball of yarn and began making a new one.

* * *

Rosester banished the ball of light with a wave of her hands, wrinkling her nose in irritation. Well, that wouldn't work. She may have prevented the conversation from taking place, but sending her darling brother after Rose when she was composed and collected would ruin his chances. He needed to catch her when she was rattled. Perhaps... during her chat, before the dangerous part of the conversation occurred?

She wove another orb of light.

* * *

TG: no kidding  
TG: but whether or not they find anything wrong with necking and frotting in the middle of a public corridor  
TG: thats not the point here  
TG: hearing johns voice begging me to give it to him rough has completely undone all your hard work  
TT: Oh.  
TT: Oh my.  
TT: And did Davester  
TT: comply?  
TG: fuck if i know  
TG: i made a strategic retreat after that point  
TG: by which mean i ran away with my tail between my legs  
TG: in a manner of speaking  


Suddenly Rose was envisioning Dave diving into his room, collapsing against the door with a flushed face and a prominent bulge in his pants. Her face reddened as her toes curled under her desk.  _No no no no think of something else anything else pick a subject go go go!_

At that moment, she heard a knock on the door of her quarters.  _Oh thank god!_

TT: Hang on, Kanaya's here.  
TT: Give me a sec, I need to let her in.  


Struggling to cool her burning cheeks and shake the image from her mind, she leaped from her computer chair and stumbled hastily to the door. “Kanaya, it's about time you showed... up...”

It was not Kanaya.

“Davester!” she exclaimed, her voice unusually high and strained. “Wh-what brings you here?”

“You, of course!” he said with a giant grin, diving forward and wrapping her up in a hug before she could blink. She gasped as the air was squeezed out of her, then pushed him away. As always, he complied instantly. “Can we hang out again today? I really like spending time with you!”

“Me and everyone else,” she hissed before she could stop herself. At his look of innocent confusion, her heart clenched and she gripped the sides of her dress. “I hear you got pretty hot and heavy with Johnster last night.” The end of her sentence was pitched oddly, as if she wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

“Yes?” Davester replied with similar uncertainty. “Is that bad?”

The muscles in her cheeks twitched as her jaw clenched. “Was that just a 'goodnight kiss' too?”

His brows drew together, his expression troubled. “Not... exactly. Johnster always asks me to do things I'm not really comfortable with.”

For a moment, Rose felt herself relaxing. It was just Johnster's doing, then, that they... were...

_Wait, what am I mad about, exactly?_

“Johnster always wants me to be so rough! I don't want to hurt him, but he says that's what he likes... so I have to at least try. I just want to make them all feel good, to make everyone happy!”

Rose's eyes darted to his face, furious at the innocent earnestness in his expression. One of her hands released its death grip on her skirts, straightened itself out, and flew up to strike him across the face before she could even think about it.

There was a moment of stunned silence between the two of them. Davester looked like a kicked puppy, his own hand slowly reaching up to touch the reddening print on his cheek. Rose's gaze darted between his eyes and her own hand, which stung from the force of her slap.  _What did I do that for? Didn't I just get through telling Dave that the Tricksters treat intimacy differently? Why am I so angry? Am I... jealous?_

_Did I seriously just hurt him because his attentions,_ which I don't want _, are not being given to me exclusively? Because they don't mean what I want them to mean?_

Davester suddenly turned his head away, and Rose was struck with guilt as she saw the way they glittered with moisture. 

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/13711617803)

“Um,” he fumbled, his voice thick and tight. “I need to... I just remembered that I... I've gotta go.” He began to walk hastily down the corridor, his steps falling more quickly and erratically until he broke out into a run, a hand wiping at his eyes as he quickly rounded the corner.

“Fuck,” Rose muttered, darting one last glance at the computer in her room. Dave and Davester both needed her help, but one of them was going to have to wait. And seeing as how _she_ was responsible for the distress one of them was feeling, the choice was easy.

Rose ran into the corridor and took up pursuit.

* * *

Rosester watched the events that would follow this line of possibility, and smiled. She waited patiently, toying with John's feet in a manner that made him twitch in his sleep, until there was a knock on the door. Hopping from the bed, she sashayed over to the entrance and pushed the button. She was greeted by Davester's dashing smile.

“You called?” he asked, pointing to the little green will-o-the-wisp that had summoned him. It bobbed playfully around his shoulders before merging back into her aura.

“I did,” she replied happily, stepping into his arms for a hug. “What time is it?”

Instead of answering, he freed an arm and traced a large circle in the air. An ornate clock-face materialized, its glowing red lines floating in the air like magic. Rosester studied the clock for a moment before reaching out and adjusting its hands, as if they were something solid to the touch. Upon releasing the slender line that counted out the seconds, the clock stopped, recording the time.

“There. At this moment, knock on her door. Just be your charming, sweet self, and even if you get hurt, things will fall into place.”

“Really?!” he cheered, snuggling her tighter. “Thanks, Sissy! You're the best!”

She giggled happily, nuzzling him back. “Go get her, darling brother!”

They parted ways, and Rosester glanced back at the slumbering figure sprawled out over his bed. He would be out for a while, which was just as well. She summoned up three more dancing beacons of light and sent them darting away, then headed out.

She had things to do.

* * *


	6. Thrill Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter, we're caught up with the kink meme. Updates will be slower after this, but rest assured, I have every intention of finishing this story.

Johnster followed the willful little wisp, rather unsteadily on his feet, until he reached a massive room filled with numerous glass vats. It promptly blinked out of existence. With a shaky sigh, he found a nice spot against one of the smaller cylinders and slid down against it. If he'd had more energy, he could have sent his voice on the breeze to ask for instructions. But he trusted Rosester, and if all he needed to do was wait here, then here he would wait.

* * *

“There it is again, bro! Did you see the motherfucker that time?”

Karkat rolled his eyes and exchanged glances with Terezi. She grinned, well aware of what it was like to have a difficult moirail. With a sigh, the red-blooded troll humored Gamzee and swept the computer room with his eyes. Once again, the teasing ball of light vanished just before he could spot it.

“There's nothing there, shitstain, twinkling miracles or otherwise. Honestly, if you're seeing things, maybe it's time to reduce your sopor dosage. Or... increase it? _Whatever_ the problem is. How much have you had today?”

“No more or less than prescribed, that's a motherfucking promise,” he said with a grin. As the other trolls turned their attentions back to their computers, Gamzee watched quietly as the shimmering spot promptly reappeared. It was a bright green color, much like sopor would be if it were miraculously made of air instead of slime. In fact, it reminded him of the pretty color that radiated off the new human girl. As he continued to watch, it floated down from the ceiling, bobbing and pulsing like a living thing. It began to hover at head-hight over the transportalizer pad.

Gamzee raised a make-up covered brow; he knew a private invitation when he saw one. Maybe it really was from the sopor-incarnate human? Whatever the case, it sounded far more interesting than his usual night-to-night monotony. There weren't nearly enough miracles in this cold metal fortress. Like he would ignore one when it all up and presented itself!

He rose to his feet, towering over the others as he worked the kinks out of his neck. “Tell you what, best friend, I'm going to get my stroll on. All this sitting around and staring at motherfucking screens all day is bad for the peepers.”

Karkat craned his neck up to look at him, blinking in surprise. “Huh. Do you suppose  _that's_ why you're seeing things?”

“Who can say?” he replied as he shuffled away, his long legs taking him to the dais in only a few strides. “Chill out, my sisters,” he said with a nod to Terezi and Aradia. “Don't wait up.”

The orb, of course, disappeared when they turned to look, but that was okay. Somehow he knew that it would reappear with him on the other side, and then maybe something fun would begin.

* * *

Dave waited patiently for a while for Rose to get back to him, but sighed and closed the laptop when he saw her status go idle.  _Can't say I blame her. Hos before bros, I guess. Maybe Kanaya finally decided to make her move? It's about time._

Restless, he propped his feet up on the desk in his room, hands crossed on his stomach as he leaned back. So. What to do now? He had kind of hoped that talking about his old problem would give his sister a reason to pay attention to him again, but obviously that had fallen through. It was just as well. He had a moirail now, and he could all too easily imagine how it would hurt Terezi if she found out he went to someone else for a feelings jam.

For a moment, Dave seriously considered opening his laptop back up and contacting her. She was already well aware of his fixation on John; she would take vicious delight in knowing her suspicions of sexual tension were true after all. But then he would have to explain the whole story, and why he had denied it to her so far, and he really didn't feel like doing that right now. He had too much energy to be stuck retracing old steps! He needed to blow off some steam.

And what better way to do that than to pace the corridors, music blaring in his ears? He'd make sure to avoid the place he spotted Johnster last time, or anywhere near the Tricksters' rooms. The labs were a huge place, after all, the odds of running into anyone at all were always slim. Besides, no one ever went to the room he was currently thinking of. They didn't share his fascination with all those dead things in jars...

* * *

Rose pressed a cold cloth to the red hand-print on Davester's face. She wasn't sure he actually needed it; her upper-arm strength was nothing to write home about. Still, it made her feel better to be doing something in apology.

She had pursued him all the way to the alchemy room, where he had tried and failed to re-enter the Trickster's Mirror. Upon realizing it wouldn't take him back, he collapsed in a pile of SBaHJ junk and hid his face.

It had taken some coaxing to get him to uncurl. He flushed hotly when she stared at his tears, and refused to meet her gaze. He seemed torn between pulling away to sulk or leaning into her arms to cry more. He compromised by freezing in place and letting her do as she pleased.

Rose sighed and lowered her hands so they could fidget in her lap instead.  _You're the one who went after him. Say what you came to say._

“I'm sorry.”

He remained perfectly still, aside from the pink eyes that slid up to meet hers. She had no idea what he was thinking.

“You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who's confused, I shouldn't have lashed out at you.”

He might have been a statue for all the reaction he showed. She found herself wringing the cool cloth between her fingers, frustrated. She preferred to be the one listening impartially while other people spilled out their thoughts and emotions. At least when she analyzed herself, she didn't have to share the dirty truths she found.

“I'm just a hypocrite who wants to have her cake and eat it, too. By which I mean, keep you firmly at arm's length. Not closer, but not farther, either.”

At last he relaxed a little, letting himself shift and blink. “I guess I should be the responsible one and back off,” he said with a sad little smile. “I know I'm not the Dave you  _really_ want. I'm nothing like him, even.”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“Isn't it obvious? He's calm and collected, I'm always uncertain. He's cool, I'm a dork. He never loses control of his emotions, I burst into tears at the drop of a hat. He's the one everyone wants! I'm... everyone's substitute,” he finished softly, staring intently at the wall.

Rose felt a stab of pity pierce her heart. She shuffled forward on the floor, bringing their knees together at the edge of the pile. “Before you lose yourself down that train of thought, I feel I should inform you that some of your assumptions are simply untrue.”

He turned his head to look at their touching knees with something like fascination. “Really?”

“You strike me as more of what Dave _could_ be, if he hadn't learned to hide his feelings behind layer after layer of irony, until even _he_ is unsure of what's real and what's put on. Dave is just as much a dork as you are, he just doesn't want anyone to know that. Seeing you, so open and honest, is quite refreshing. Actually, I think you may be calmer than he is.”

“What? How?”

“You let yourself feel things as they happen. Dave ignores his feelings for so long that he forgets how to deal with them at all. He just suddenly explodes, usually in the completely opposite way he wanted. If he's lucky, he can feel it coming in advance and comes to me to help him through the mess he's made.”

“Hmmm.” Davester seemed comforted by her answer for a moment, but then he deflated. “He sounds more like what Johnster's looking for than I do.”

“Forget about Johnster,” Rose huffed in irritation, then realized what she was doing. She made a face as she tried to shake off the jealousy again. “You deserve more than to be someone's substitute.”

He slouched down, propping his chin on one hand, his elbow resting on his knee. A teasing smile curled his lips, though his eyes didn't seem to be in on the joke. “Isn't that what  _you're_ doing, though?”

She winced. He was rather close now, his face below hers, so she had to look to the side if she wanted to avoid his gaze. “Probably. Maybe. I don't know! All the more reason that this would never work, I suppose.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Davester's other hand slid forward, moving from one set of crossed legs to the other. Rose was keenly aware of its heat and weight on her knee. “I wouldn't mind, you know,” he said softly, his voice like silk as his fingers toyed with the fabric of her dress. “If it's you. I would be glad for any kind of attention from _you_. All the things you wish you could do with your brother, you can do them with me and I would be  _so happy._ We could go back to your room and knit and talk all day. We could explore every inch of the labs together, side by side. We could alchemize a shit-load of snow and build forts and have a snowball fight!” She turned her head back at that one, looking into his eyes with surprise.  _How did he know I've always wanted to do that with him? I mean, with Dave?_

He leaned closer, his hand sliding slowly down her thigh as he continued. “And if maybe, after we're chilled to the bone, our noses red and cold, you want to take a steaming hot shower _together_ , that would be okay, too.” Her eyes grew wider, but now they seemed unable to tear themselves away from his. “And if, as we explore every nook and cranny of this place, we do the same to _each other_ , that would be more than welcome.” His eyelids seemed to grow heavier, in contrast to hers. His hand stroked her hip in sensual patterns that made her skin tingle. “And,” he whispered, close enough now that she could feel his breath on her lips, “if you want to use your knitting yarn to tie one of us to the bed... I'm sure that can be arranged.”

She fumbled for words, temporarily speechless. She could only imagine how flustered she looked right now, cheeks red and mouth open. “Um. That's...” She barked a nervous laugh. “Ha! Wow. Maybe all this time Dave has been a substitute for _you_.”

Davester absolutely beamed at her words, his smile so much wider and easier than her brother's ever was. Even so, it sent her heart racing in the same confusing mixture of desired familial closeness and inappropriate sexual thrill that it always did. The analytical part of her mind fussed at her as she leaned forward ever so slightly, screaming that this was big trouble and she would definitely regret it; why didn't she get some distance, cool off and think about it for a while?

Rose told the analytical part of her mind that the consequences had been duly noted, and that if it would kindly fuck off for a while, she would like to get busy deserving them.

* * *

Dave stared at the sleeping form with mild incredulity.  _Of all the rooms in this maze of a place he could have taken a nap in, why this one?_ Johnster was propped up against one of the test tubes, a half-formed and long dead Dersite pawn floating morbidly above his head. The body still bobbed and rotated in the greenish liquid that filled the vat, which was more movement than the Trickster was showing. He might have been a corpse himself. As if to make sure, Dave prodded an outstretched leg with his foot.

“Hmm?” Johnster mumbled, stirring and opening his eyes. He looked up blearily, then gave a weak smile. “Heeey, it's Dave. Hi!”

“Yeah, hi. What are you doing in my sanctuary, man?”

“Your what?”

“This room. The Palace of the Past. The Preserve. The 'Dead Things in Jars' room. This is where I come to be _alone_. What are you doing getting your Zs on in here?”

Johnster stared at him blankly, still perfectly relaxed. “Don't you have, like, five sanctuaries?”

“What?”

“Your quarters... the corridor where most of your SBaHJ crap is stored... the alchemy room, back when it was 'your domain.' Um, what else did John mention...”

Dave made a dismissive wave of his hand. “Forget those places, Egderp doesn't know what he's talking about. This is my  _real_ man cave, and you're invading it with your stupid pink tights and booty-shorts.”

“You seem really fixated on my shorts, you know that? Are you an ass man?”

“Whether or not I have a fixation on hunk rumps is not the question here. The question is...”

And then he trailed off, because Johnster had rolled sideways onto his hands and knees, working his way to his feet in the most ass-rearing way possible. Even with dark shades hiding his eyes, the line of Dave's gaze couldn't have been more visible if there had been a dotted line to illustrate it. The pause in the usual flow of his speech didn't help his case.

“Oh, ha ha, very funny. I was traumatized in my youth, okay? Now answer my question already, why are you—oh. I get it. You exhausted yourself with the windy thing again, didn't you. Passed gas until you passed out.”

Johnster made a face as he leaned a hand against the vat for support. “Wow, rude!”

“Whatever, man, you're the one with powers of breaking wind. Not my fault you're such an easy target.”

“Hey!” he objected, taking a step towards him. “You know perfectly well—woah.” His knees completely failed at supporting him, sending him right back to the floor. He stared at his legs as if they had betrayed him.

Dave snickered a little, cocking his head. “Need some help?”

“I'm _fine_ ,” he pouted, climbing unsteadily to his feet again. He listed from one side to the other, enough that Dave stopped joking around and clapped a hand over his shoulder to steady him.

“You needing some sugar again or something?”

“Y-yeah, I think so,” he confessed. “I don't suppose you'd help a guy out?”

Dave snorted. “Whatever gets you out of my hair faster--”

Johnster seemed to dart forward like a snake, slipping in close, chest to chest. Dave's natural reaction should have been to flashstep back or shove him away, but it seemed his personal space had a built-in exception for Johns. Instead, he stood stock-still as the pale imitation of his best friend pressed a pair of lips against his. In fact, he allowed the kiss to go on for entirely too long.

The Trickster pulled away, licking his lips with relish. “Thanks for the sugar, Dave,” he said smugly.

Dave stared at him, at the darting pink tongue, at the hint of color that was returning to his pale cheeks. He didn't know what to do. His blood was roaring in his ears, adrenaline calling his nerves to action. This was  _not_ John, and yet his body wanted it to be,  _so bad._ John would never do this. He knew that, had come to accept it. Then  _this_ guy had to come and turn everything upside down again and now he was feeling  _incredibly_

pissed

off!

Dave exploded, slamming a fist solidly into Johnster's face and sending him crashing to the ground. He knew, distantly, that his poker face was failing, his lips stretched into an ugly grimace as he panted hot air, looming over the boy like he'd gone mad. Johnster slowly sat back up, gingerly touching a few fingers to his swelling cheek. He twisted his head to look up at his attacker, and Dave braced himself not to flinch, fully expecting to see John's familiar face twisted into an expression of hurt and confusion and anger.

That was not what he looked like at all.

Johnster grinned, playful and triumphant. A large, double sided hammer appeared in his hands as he climbed to his feet, looking steadier by the second.

“Wanna _strife?_ ” he leered, with such eager lust in his eyes that he might as well have been asking something else.

Dave's sword was in his hands before he could even think about it.

* * *

Aradia twisted her head to glance at the transportalizer pad for the fifth or sixth time, turning back with a sigh. Karkat shot her a skeptical look.

“Don't tell me you're seeing things now, too. Am I going to have to start issuing computer breaks before we all start hallucinating?”

She shook her head. “No, I'm simply wondering what's taking Sollux so long. It's not uncommon for him to miss breakfast after a long day, but I thought he would come here after Kanaya was through. I'd ask if he is feeling unwell, but neither of them are online.”

“So go check on him. Don't just sit there giving me a headache with all your rubbernecking.”

She smiled. “Very well. Be back in a second.”

And she was; precisely one second after she vanished upon the dais, she reappeared upon it. Aradia couldn't teleport, but she could certainly create the illusion of it. Judging by the troubled look upon her face, though, her excursion hadn't relieved her worries.

“I pounded on his door, but got no response. None at Kanaya's room, either. I don't know if he's simply not there, or too sick to let me in.”

Karkat signed out of chat with an exaggerated sigh, taking to his feet as he cracked his knuckles. “Fine, I'll come take a look at his lock, it can't be  _that_ hard to hack.”

“Are you kidding?” Terezi said with a malicious cackle, arching a brow at him; one of the more annoying traits she'd picked up from Dave. Karkat scowled, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. “This I have to see.”

“I can do it!” he blustered as the three of them went to check on their friend.

* * *

“Oh god, it's so _cold!_ ”

Rose burst out laughing at Davester's reaction. The snowball had exploded on contact with his face, leaving him wide-eyed and stunned, eyeballing the spray that was shooting out of the newly alchemized snow-machine with something like wariness. The mound of fluffy white snow was growing quickly, and she grinned at him darkly while packing another ball.

“You throw that and you'll regret it!” he warned in a sing-song voice, moving to put the alchemiter between them. She stuck out her tongue and lobbed it over anyway. It missed, Davester having flashstepped away so he could reappear behind her. He scooped up a handful of snow and grabbed the collar of her dress.

“Aah, no!” she squealed as he dropped it down her back, where it quickly left a freezing wet streak of melting slush. She retaliated by spinning around and grabbing his hand, pulling him right into the blasting stream of snow. He spluttered and squawked as she danced away, then tore after her, his green hair wild and damp. A flying tackle sent them both sprawling into a snow drift, laughing all the way.

“You know, they're going to be furious when they see what we've done to the alchemy room,” Rose admitted as she tried to calm her giggles. The snow was melting quickly, the pile of SBaHJ items turning into a pulpy mess as it soaked the water up.

“They can fume all they want. It's high time you got to have some fun.” Davester propped himself up on one elbow and brushed a few hairs clear of her face. “Who says you always have to be the responsible one? I don't see it written in stone anywhere.”

The corner of her lips curled into a half smile. “Perhaps you're right.” She looked up at him, the way he was looming beside her, and her expression softened. Her mouth opened slightly and her eyelids drooped as Davester stared back and leaned closer, his lips parting...

And then he stopped and pulled back, uncertain.

She blinked in surprise. “What is it?”

“You... you _do_ want this, right? I mean... you're not going to avoid me later, are you?”

Rose took a deep breath for an immediate reply, then paused. She  _had_ been planning on avoiding him, before. To prevent exactly this from happening. What had changed her mind?

“It's just,” he continued, “no matter how much I want to do this, I think it would kill me if you weren't willing. The other three say I'm too nice.” He gave a sad little shrug, his eyes downcast. “Is it so wrong if I want to give you one last chance to back out?”

She could do it. She could turn him away and uphold her self-made promise to avoid this whole incestuous affair. She could finally give up on Dave and accept Kanaya's increasingly frequent romantic overtures. She could put all the guilt and shame behind her.

As she lay there in the cold snowdrift, frozen with indecision, Davester did something odd. He pulled the shades out of his hair and placed them properly on his nose, as if already resigned to her decision and trying to hide his eyes, trying to conceal his hurt. It was  _such_ a typical Strider gesture, but it was completely ruined by the pink heart shape of his frames. Rose couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.

He stared at her with a wounded pout, and she giggled harder. Reaching over, she plucked the glasses off and put them back on top of his head, then pulled him down on top of her. Really, when it all came down to it, the choice wasn't that hard to make after all. In fact, it felt like a burden had lifted. “You don't need to fret, Davester. When I've set my mind on a decision, I don't let anything deter me from it. Even if it seems unwise,” she added with a self-depreciating twist of her lips. “So from now on, I'm not going to let the others use you as they please. I want you to stay here with me.” She reached up and ran a hand through his green hair. “I  _want_ you to kiss me.”

Davester looked like he wanted to cry again, his grin wide before he reigned it in and did as she asked. Rose's heart, which had only just calmed down after their snowfight theatrics, was suddenly shuddering in her chest again. Or maybe that was just Davester; as he pulled away, licking his lips and looking like he was ready to dive in again, she realized that he was shivering. Not surprising, considering his outfit. Come to think of it, she was feeling pretty damn chilly too. She was only laying in a snowbank with damp clothes, after all.

“Say, um,” she began quickly, before she could be distracted, “what say we kick off that machine and adjourn to a warmer place?”

He turned his head and began kissing the palm of her hand, his piercing eyes never leaving her own. “That sounds like an  _excellent_ idea. Perhaps somewhere hot--”

Kiss.

“\--wet--”

Lick.

“\--and steamy?”

A gust of breath.

Rose was surprised they didn't sink through the snow drift, such was the rush of heat that flashed through her body.

* * *

Dave was surprised he managed to keep his feet, such was the blast of wind that buffeted his body. He twisted sideways and widened his stance, waiting it out. The Trickster just didn't have the energy to use his power for long, even though he seemed frustratingly more energetic than he was only minutes ago. Sure enough, the breeze suddenly petered out, giving him the freedom to lunge after his target once more.

Johnster was shockingly fast. Not as fast as a Strider, of course, but far quicker than he expected of a person who wielded a such a heavy weapon. His long trailing hood had several slices in it now, while his ~~creamy~~ thighs and arms were developing a number of darkening bruises where Dave had slapped him with the flat of his blade. Even so, he had dodged most of his blows entirely, or blocked them with the head or handle of his hammer with a grin over their crossed weapons. His playfulness only served to piss him off more. Just like the real Egbert, this one was being insensitively flippant regarding the seriousness of his emotions.

“Come on, Dave, aren't you going to teach me a lesson? I thought you were supposed to be an urban ninja or something?”

He gritted his teeth and lunged forward, faking it at the last second to swing his sword around at a different angle. Johnster parried again, but not in time to prevent a pretty good cut on his arm. He yelped in surprise and leaped back, twisting his neck to examine the wound. A stream of blood began to flow from the fresh slice, dribbling down his arm in rivulets and painting it red. Dave stared at it and froze.

_Blood._

_Blood blood blood bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood-_

“Dave? Hey, you okay? You went all pale...”

_Deaddeadthey'realldeadBroandmeandmeandallthosemes,they'realldead-_

“Damn, she wasn't kidding.” There was a brief rustle of cloth, or at least Dave thought it was brief, he wasn't actually sure, and as if waking slowly from a dream he noticed that the blood was gone. A wadded up blue cloth with dark stains had been tossed to the side, and a matching shred was now tied firmly around the wound. Johnster's hood was missing, sacrificed for the cleanup.

“So are you really gonna pass out? Because that would be _hilarious_ and I would have to tease you about it for months.”

Dave snapped out of his stupor with a snarl, suddenly realizing that _he_ was the one leaning against a vat for support this time. “Fuck. You.”

Johnster seemed amused by his response, playfully twirling the hammer around a few times like a baton. “You gotta beat me first,” he giggled, then lunged forward, the deadly weight of his weapon swinging straight for his head. Dave's eyes narrowed behind his shades as he held his ground, waiting until the very last second before he flashstepped away. The hammer slammed into the glass vat, shattering it and releasing a tidal wave of preservative fluid. With a squawk, Johnster was knocked off his feet, washed away by the flood until he came to a stop several feet away, soaking from head to toe.

Dave calmly walked over to where the Trickster's hammer had fallen and kicked it away. It slid easily across the slick puddle. “Well, isn't this a pleasant turn of events,” he drawled, the dark twist of his lips at odds with his words. Johnster struggled to wipe the slimy liquid from his glasses and regain his footing, but both tasks proved difficult. Every time he got his feet and hands under him, they slipped out the moment he exerted any force, sending him right back to the floor.

Something cold touched his jaw as he propped himself up on his elbows again; he froze and stared with wide eyes at the length of polished steel that was now casually resting against his neck. The tip pressed in a little, forcing him down, down, until he was flat on his back again. “I do believe,” Dave said with growing satisfaction as his breathing slowed, “that this is my victory.”

Johnster did his best to take in the situation without moving his head, found no escape, and heaved a great sigh. “Can't argue that.” The fight seemed to drain out of him, but he didn't look any more relaxed. His hands flexed open and closed, he drew his knees up and back down again, and he squirmed and wriggled as if he was in pain. His cheeks grew more and more flushed as his eyelids drooped, never shifting them away from Dave's face. “I guess you've got me right where you want me, huh?” he said in a tone of voice that was almost a moan.

Behind his shades, Dave blinked and did a double take, his eyes darting all over the form at his feet. Soaked clothes left nothing to the imagination, not that they had left much to that in the first place. Skin glistened as the boy writhed as if in heat, one pink-striped stocking sliding slowly down his leg with each flex. Flushed skin, parted lips, eyes full of desire, and shorts that couldn't possibly be comfortable with that ill-concealed and rapidly growing erection...

Dave stared, and swallowed.

* * *

Rose stared. The ablution room was empty, which wasn't completely unusual for this time of day, but the large bath in the corner was already prepared. Wafts of steam curled invitingly up from the parts of water not completely obscured by frothy white bubbles. Black candles and deep red rose petals occupied every shelf and ledge, sharing only with a large cluster of bottles.

“When—I'm guessing you did this?”

Davester smiled. “I _will_. I'll stand guard, too, to make sure we're undisturbed.”

“This is...”

“Romantic? Dreamy? Perfect?”

She gave him an uncertain look. “You're not being passive aggressive, are you?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She stared for a moment more, then shook her head and smiled. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Stepping up beside the tub, she examined the selection of bottles, expecting them to be different kinds of soaps and shampoos. There were indeed a few of those, but the majority seemed to be massage oils and... personal lubricants. Cooling ones. Warming ones. Tingling ones. Gels and liquids. Flavored ones. Pheromone scented ones. All of them waterproof.

She was taken aback for a moment, before she looked up at him with amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Kinky.”

“I am a Strider, after all,” he said with a nonchalant grin.

“I suppose it's better than puppets.” She picked one of them up curiously, her eyebrows rising as she read the label. “Pomegranate flavored?”

He smirked. “It's the forbidden fruit, you know.”

“I thought that was apples.”

Suddenly he was behind her, whispering in her ear. “I'm pretty sure you already know how to sin.” Her breath caught in her throat as he began pulling down the zipper of her damp dress. “I'm not trying to trick you into knowledge you don't already have.” He loosened the sash around her waist, and she didn't stop him. “But why stop at dipping our toes in the waters of the Underworld when we could be diving in?” He slipped the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet as he nipped at her very red earlobe. “Have a taste. Sis.”

Rose flipped open the cap, and as the tangy sweet scent filled her senses, she knew she would never be able to smell that fruit again without getting aroused.

* * *

Dave wondered if the smell of preservative fluid was some kind of aphrodisiac, because the blinding rage that had overwhelmed him only moments ago was returning, only with decidedly different results. He realized suddenly that his hands were shaking, and dropped his sword to the side before ~~falling~~ kneeling over Johnster's writhing form, wrapping them around his neck instead.

“Why,” he started to ask, then stopped, startled at how pathetic his own voice sounded. “It's not _fair!_ I was-!” No, still pathetic. “Are you doing this on _purpose?_ ”

Johnster opened his mouth, but of course he couldn't speak with hands around his neck like that. Dave loosened his grip and let him talk. “Of course I am, Dave!” he promptly responded, far too happy for the situation he was in, then shifted his voice to a tone of surprising bitterness. “John is a  _fool._ A great blundering idiot who doesn't know a good thing when he sees it! How could he possibly reject you? I would do _anything_ -” he broke off angrily, then wrapped his legs around Dave's, pulling their hips closer. Dave couldn't help sucking in a breath when their erections brushed against each other, but fortunately it was drowned out by Johnster's much louder gasp.

“Dave,” the boy below him moaned, doing his best to look him in the eye. “You're amazing. You're fast. You're strong. You're clever. Of course it's not fair that he never looked at you. But _I'm_ looking at you, Dave, and like what I see.” A smirk touched his lips as he wriggled again, sending a jolt of fire through the Strider's body before tilting his head back, exposing his neck. “I love all of it... especially your _anger_. Take it out on me, I can handle it. I _want_ it. Oh, _god_ do I want it!”

Dave shuddered, wracked with surging desires that made him feel like his blood was boiling. He thought maybe he was supposed to be resisting something? But his eyes were under assault by the vision of his friend flushed beneath him, his ears were besieged by the moans he was hearing, his body was responding to the eager one moving against it, and his heart was greedily pouncing on the words being spoken, devouring them as if starving.

This was more temptation then he could bear. Perhaps he settled his weight upon Johnster's form purposefully, or perhaps his elbows just gave out, but whatever the case, Dave suddenly found himself wringing ecstatic moans out of the boy as he bit harshly at his exposed neck, grinding his hot, slippery body into the floor.

* * *

Everything was wet and hot and slippery. Rose felt like she was floating, which was appropriate seeing as she was in a large tub of water. The soft hiss of thousands of bubbles gradually popping served as white noise underneath Davester's soft, lilting hum as he ran his hands up and down her well-oiled back, massaging out every muscle until she felt like putty. She sighed contentedly as she rested her chin on her hands, her arms laying across the cool ledge of porcelain that encircled the bath. She needed the cold relief. Her thoughts were as drifting and incoherent as a fever-dream, the scent of fruits and pheromones addling her senses. This was all so strange. Shouldn't she be more... on guard? Setting aside the fact that she'd been against freeing the Tricksters in the first place, what about her emotional shield of sarcasm and passive aggressiveness? To borrow a term from her dear brother who, in a way, she was about to fuck, wasn't she being too genuine?

Rose struggled to stir up the flash of fear that such emotional vulnerability usually inspired, but she was quite frankly too relaxed to be successful. Davester seemed to sense something, though, because he paused for a second, then wrapped his arms around her, pressing up against her back. “Is something wrong?”

“I just... shouldn't I be doing something in return? You're treating me like a princess, but we live in an age of gender equality, you know.”

He pondered that for a moment, his hands stroking her stomach absently. Rose shuddered in his embrace, at the feel of dense muscle against her soft skin, then held back a noise as his hands began to travel a little lower and a little higher. All this anticipation was killing her, not that she would admit it. “Oh, I don't know, Rose. I think you  _like_ being treated like a princess. But if you really want to do something for me...”

“Y-yes? Go on,” she panted as he began brushing fingers with frustrating lightness over the swell of her breasts, the line of her thighs.

“Let go of your pride, and loosen your tongue,” he murmured as he finally stopped teasing, kneading her chest and stroking his fingers against her aching groin.

Rose surprised herself by doing as she was told. She had no idea she could make noises like that.

* * *

Dave had certainly fantasized about John making noises like that, but it was incredibly gratifying to hear his voice actually making them.

With Johnster's neck and shoulder now thoroughly bruised, Dave ran his hand through blond hair ( _it should be black, but whatever_ ) and curled his fingers in it, feeling the damp strands catch in the folds of his skin. Tightening his grip, he yanked hard to the side, relishing the sharp gasp he earned before covering the other boy's open mouth with his own, consuming the little yelps and whimpers whole. Johnster was almost ridiculously loud, and Dave was rapidly realizing he got a serious boner for that sort of thing.

Johnster had kicked off his shoes at some point, and one of his stupid pink leggings was now flopping about, half off. It finally got to be annoying enough that Dave sat up and ripped the damn thing off. Before he could fling it away, though, Johnster slid his hands up above his head. “Maybe you should make good use of that? Wouldn't want me to get away,” he panted, not quite successfully attempting to make it sound like a dare instead of a breathless request.

Dave tried to consider tossing it away just to spite him, but his body violently rejected the notion. Now that the idea had been put on the table, there was no tabling it, and before he could blink he had trussed up his prisoner's wrists like the bow on a present. He admired his handiwork as Johnster tested it out and found it unyielding. With something like a whine the Trickster rolled his blue-and-red eyes up with bliss, arching first his back and then his hips, like some kind of undulating inchworm or a slippery snake. It wasn't like Johnster could actually slither away, of course, not when he was hovering over him like a cage of four limbs, and not when those half-clothed legs were still wrapped around his hips with no sign of letting go anytime soon. Dave wasn't entirely sure if the movement was meant for gaining some pleasurable friction or just to confirm that he was well and duly trapped. Perhaps both. All he was absolutely certain of was that the feel and sight of the body flexing under him was driving him _insane_.

He desperately needed more of it. Shifting his weight to one side, he hooked a finger into one of the sword-slices he'd cut into Johnster's shirt earlier. The soggy fabric put up a token resistance before ripping under the force, shredding from top to bottom until the lightly muscled torso it had clothed was completely exposed.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/18937222132)

Johnster moaned with delight, his legs tightening around Dave's body and then falling open, hips slumping to the floor and allowing him the freedom he needed to get to his shorts. They were made of sterner stuff, but the sword he had dropped nearby quickly turned them into shreds. Pale skin untouched by the sun greeted him, but those thighs couldn't compete with the sight of soft, swollen balls crowned by a pink-flushed erection that twitched and strained towards him. Moisture glistened at the tip, starting to ooze and trickle down the swollen skin.

_FUUUUUUUUCK_ , his train of thought flat-lined. It tried to come up with some clever phrase about doctors with defibrillators attempting revive the rhythm and rhyme, then went completely white. With a desperate snarl Dave pressed Johnster's legs up and apart, too far to be comfortable, his grip tight enough to leave bruises later. It only made the boy shriek with such an erotic wail that Dave feared for a moment he was going to come in his pants. He released one of those legs for a second out of pure necessity, unbuckling his jeans before the pressure did him in. He could feel his dick straining to slip through the opening in his boxers as he leaned down and swathed his tongue up Johnster's metaphorical lollipop ( _as opposed to the literal one stuck in his fucking hair_ ,) earning him a loud string of colorful phrases. He lapped up the moisture at the tip, feeling his own precum begin to leak out in response. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, a set of pink-socked toes curled and stretched incessantly. 

“Oh god, Dave, please, please, give me more, give me everything, be _rough_ , be fierce, teach me a lesson I'll never forget, I've been _such_ a bad boy, you have _no_ idea, please, please, _please!_ ”

Dave bit back a cry and pushed Johnster's legs back farther, licking down his shaft, his balls, teasing around the puckered orifice exposed by his spread cheeks, and back up again, relishing every begging whimper and half-choked sob of desire. He slipped the angry shaft into his mouth, taking little care to cover his teeth. Johnster's whole body seemed to tense and flex with each accidental graze, until he was quivering with nerves and gasping hoarsely for air.

“D-Dave I-I'm gonna c-come if you d-don't—ah! Ah! Oh g-g-god please, please, I-I-ah! Aaah!”

Dave felt the heat building up, the tension in the body he was restraining, and pulled back just before he could go over the edge. Johnster's cries were music to his ears as he waited for him to come back down. He looked absolutely wretched, absolutely gorgeous, all tied up and red-faced and blue-balled, his most vulnerable places splayed and exposed. There may have been tears on his cheeks, and in Dave's lust addled state, the thought only seemed to turn him on more. Despite being the one on top, he felt like he was completely out of control. He suspected that if he were to look upon his current actions with a cool head ( _like a Strider is_ supposed _to have_ ,) he would be absolutely horrified, but with Johnster's whispered praises and pleadings trickling into his ears, it was hard to care.

* * *

Rose suspected that if she were to look at what she was currently doing with a cool head, she would be absolutely mortified. She didn't particularly care, though, because her cool-headed moments had never been this amazing. At some point she seemed to have completely lost control of the situation, and to her complete amazement, she felt all the better for the surrender.

“How do you like the tingling lube?” Davester asked, his voice rich with amusement as he crooked his fingers inside her.

“Oh, god,” she gasped, her voice breaking a little as she shuddered upon his hand. “It feels f-fantastic.” She was still leaning with her elbows on the edge of the tub, only now Davester's unbreakable grip kept her arms pinned there. She was trapped on her knees in the steaming water, her legs spread, her rear pressed against his very noticeable arousal as he tormented and pleasured her with his array of products. A little while ago he had drizzled that pomegranate lube all over the hand that gripped her arms, and she was still intent on licking every last sweet drop of it up.

The fingers inside her stroked and curled, painting her with the slick substance that left behind a chilling, tingling sensation like a blast of wintergreen. Combined with the way she was already swollen and aching with desire, she thought she might tip over the edge right then and there. Her voice took off on its own, moans and gasps slipping out as her ears grew red. But once again, Davester removed his fingers before she could come, leaving her frustratingly empty yet burning from the inside.

“Fuck!” she cursed, pulling uselessly against his grip as she panted with loss. The tingling only seemed to increase, causing her to spasm and buck against him. He gasped suddenly as her ruttings stroked his dick, and it twitched against her in anticipation. She felt a vicious sense of victory. At least she wasn't the only affected one here.

“Getting impatient, my princess?” he asked, and it would have been infuriating if his voice hadn't sounded so breathless. “I am but your knight. You need only command me, and I shall do as you ask.”

It was a statement so corny, such an obvious fantasy wish-fulfillment that could have been lifted straight from one of her fictions, that Rose very nearly recovered her shields and lashed out with sarcasm. But as she glanced back, her dirty look melted under the devotion that shone through his startling pink eyes. He was so much like a fairy tale. He was ridiculous. He was perfect.

She meant to sharply hiss “Fuck me.” Somehow, she ended up whimpering “Take me?” instead.

He flashed her that brilliant smile of his that never failed to make her heart skip, then released his grip on her arms. Before she could so much as blink, though, he gripped her hips, shifted a bit behind her, and pressed something slick and firm at her entrance. Her eyes grew wide as he slid inside. She had kind of expected it to hurt, at least a little. It seemed that Davester had known exactly what he was doing with all the preparation. Instead, the invading pressure felt like sweet relief to a mind-consuming ache, an itch finally being scratched, a craving finally being satisfied.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered between the airy kisses he was leaving on her neck, his chest a furnace against her back. One hand wandered around her torso to press her closer, sliding easily across her slick skin to reach her breasts, while the other strayed behind. She closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the tub as she melted against him, drowning in sensation as he stroked her curves.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/18937360541)

“My princess? My sister. Tell me what you want. Would you like it fast? Deep?” He gripped her tightly for a moment and suddenly reared against her, so that the water splashed and her flesh bounced as she let out a surprised gasp of delight. “Or perhaps slow--” he drew out at an agonizing pace, until the anticipation was almost as overwhelming as the sensation itself, “--and shallow?” He brushed teasingly in and out with just the head of his shaft, making her whimper and gasp.

She fumbled with words for a moment, irritated that she couldn't come up with a response. Or was she irritated because she was being asked at all? To answer meant she would have to think, and didn't she do _enough_ of that? “How about,” she growled, “you stop asking so many questions and just... use your best judgment on that?”

Without pausing in his delicious torment, he considered her words. “Are you asking me to take the lead?”

Some lingering stiff-necked bit of pride tried and failed to shut her mouth. “I'm _telling_ you to take _control._ ”

She could feel his smile against her skin, though she couldn't see it. It seemed toothy.

* * *

Dave's lips stretched in an expression that was mostly teeth as he swiped his hand through the slippery substance that pooled around them on the floor. He hoped it would make a good lube, because with Johnster crying out for the pleasure of pain, he wasn't exactly going to put any effort into finding any. It didn't burn when he slathered it across his raging hard-on, and that was good enough for him. He pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees, then realized how hot he was by the sudden rush of cool air and decided to rip off his shirt, too. He tossed it aside, where it quickly became a sodden mess.

Some lingering sense of concern pricked at his conscience as he lined himself up. Didn't anal sex require a lot more preparation? Though admittedly, he suspected his sex-crazed partner wouldn't need _much._ He hesitated for a moment, then shook it off when Johnster pressed his heels impatiently into his back.

_Fine! You want it rough, I'll give it to you rough!_ Sweat dripping down his chin, Dave snarled and flexed the muscles in his pelvis, pushing his hips forward. Fuck, it  _hurt!_ There was pleasure mixed in the pain, but for a second it was  _too_ tight, squeezing him so much that he could hear a grinding sound from his tightly clenched teeth. Johnster was shrieking and screaming between gasping breaths, but still he dug his feet into Dave's back, encouraging him to push harder. His hands strained against his bonds, fingernails digging into his arms as he tossed his head back, his bruised neck and chest turning red as the flush of his face spread.

“Oh, fuck, yes! Dave, you're fantastic!” he cried as the muscles that were clamping too tightly around their intruder slowly stretched to fit. Dave breathed a little steadier as the pain eased—for him, at least. “Oh god, it hurts _so goooood_ , don't stop, keep going!”

“Masochist,” Dave muttered, but Johnster only grinned widely at the insult. He opened his eyes and peered up at him through moisture-darkened lashes.

“How long have you been dying to do this, Dave?” he asked breathlessly.

“ _A long fucking time._ ”

“Does it feel good?” His voice grew even softer, barely a whisper. “All those desires you stamped down, all that anger you swallowed, all that lust you shamefully denied, all those emotions you had to bottle away, fermenting and rotting and percolating into a foul, retched, tarry _sludge_ that held you down, down, down... does it feel good to bust it open? Does it feel amazing to set it on fire and let it _burn up?_ ”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” he yelped in a voice that sounded suspiciously close to breaking. Struggling to find purchase on the slippery floor, he pulled back and slammed into the body beneath him, then gasped as his vision went dark and exploded in an array of stars. He held still for a moment, stunned and shaking at the pleasure that throbbed through his body, like electricity coursing through his very bones. Labored panting that couldn't possibly be _his_ wracked his chest, his mouth drying out as his shades steamed over. 

_Goddamn, that was... more. I need_ more _!_

His hands slipped as he pulled out again, and with a dark laugh he recalled that he didn't need to spare this crazy bastard his weight, anyway. Settling them on Johnster's chest instead, he stroked and scratched over his pert little nipples as he bucked hard against his ass, hard enough that the pale body jolted and slid with each thrust. Johnster's moans ended in little yelps from the force, like the scratching of a record, and Dave was determined to play him into the ground. His very own instrument of pleasure.

There was a roaring in his ears, and it took Dave a while to realize it wasn't just his blood pumping. Johnster's breeze was blowing through the cavernous room, swirling round and round them like a developing tornado. It masked the embarrassing noises he couldn't quite hold back, to his satisfaction. Shifting positions slightly, he rolled his hips more with each savage push, causing Johnster's shrieks to change in pitch. Tilting his head down, Dave devoured the sight of the painful-looking erection staring him back, and his own shaft stretching and compressing as it slid in and out of the opening framed by soft cheeks and flushed balls.

“Dave! Dave, oh _fuck!_ You're an animal, a beast! Please, I'm at your _mercy_ , violate me, destroy me! Release the monster, stop hiding him, let him free! Give him to _me_ , Dave!”

Red eyes almost seemed to glow as they peered up over the top of their shades. “Didn't I tell you to _shut. Up?_ ” Slick hands slipped from leaning on his chest to once again gripping around his neck, and this time they stayed there. The wind picked up even faster, as if responding with panic to the fact that the Heir of Breath couldn't breathe. Johnster began to thrash, mildly at first, then harder and harder, his body convulsing on its own accord in an attempt to save itself. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

And yet, still he grinned.

_You really are like John_ , Dave suddenly though. _You don't fear death._

_Unlike me._

Dave released his grip, and as Johnster gasped and breathed in sweet gulps of air, a different part of his body convulsed. The first splatter across his chest caught Dave's attention, and as his eyes darted back down they were assaulted by the vision of come pumping out of his partner's swollen, barely touched dick, drizzling across both their chests as his balls clenched and twitched.

_Holy. Shit._ It was too much. It was the last straw. Dave pulled out and slammed into him again and again, letting those last few strokes of overwhelming pleasure topple him over the edge. His body went still as all sensation was condensed into a glorious explosion of fire and pressure, letting all his frustrations, all his agony and heartache and love and anger strip away and erupt into the eager vessel that greedily received it. The windstorm raged around them like a full-blown hurricane now, a deafening roar mixed with the sound of breaking glass and rushing liquid.

He felt like he was pouring part of his soul out, like he was giving away something important, something he needed. A bone-deep weariness was stealing over him. He'd never felt so weak. As his muscles turned to jelly, he slipped out and collapsed on top of Johnster, who wrapped his legs around him in an odd form of embrace. The wind slowed, so that the roaring sound faded away to a more soothing patter of raindrops and musically tinkling glass.

Something like horrified guilt was lurking at the edges of his thoughts, just waiting for him to let it to wash over him like a tidal wave and sweep him away. As Dave struggled to think about something else, he felt a pair of arms encircle him, still tied, and hold him tight. With far, far more effort than it should have taken, he lifted his head enough to see Johnster's expression.

His eyes were shining, his tear-streaked face the very picture of joy.

“You. _God_ , Dave! You. Are. My. _Hero_.”

Dave sobbed.

* * *

Rose sobbed. If anyone had ever asked her before this if she was the type to beg in bed, she would have glared at them until dark smoke began rising off of her skin. But then again, how could she have known? She'd never been taken to bed before.

She suspected that it wouldn't have been an issue with anyone other than Davester, though. He was just _that_ good. And there were _so many_ of him.

She'd been shocked when the first extra body showed up. Her eyes had drifted shut with pleasure when it occurred to her that there were more hands stroking her body than there should have been. She opened them in alarm and looked to the side, only to see another Davester grinning back at her impishly.

“You're going to love this,” he said with the confidence of someone who already knows what happens next, and devoured her lips in a kiss as he slid in front of her. The real Davester—no, the _present_ Davester—shifted them both backwards to make room, so she wrapped her arms around the neck of the newcomer for support. He stroked her dangling breasts as she slipped her tongue past his lips, toying with her nipples that bobbed in and out of the water with each breath. She made a muffled squeak as his touch sent shudders of arousal through her already inflamed body.

Davester had apparently decided that slow was the way to go, because he took her hips and plush rump in hand for leverage and began moving behind her at a tantalizing pace. She found herself pushing against him without thought when he was all the way in, trying to swallow every inch of him. He seemed to appreciate her efforts, if the hot breaths that gusted across her damp back were anything to go by. The Davester she was kissing separated their lips with a parting lick, stretching up to suck on the lobe of her ear instead. She moaned in enjoyment, letting her own steamy gasps of air roll over his collarbone.

_This was amazing with just one of you, how am I supposed to handle two?_

His pace increased, mind-blowing strokes of pleasure multiplying upon themselves until Rose could feel heat like molten lava pouring through her veins. Her gasps grew louder, more vocal, and as if in response, Davester slowed down again, preventing her from reaching the point of no return. A shriek of desperate frustration tore through her throat.

“Oh god, please don't stop!” she sobbed, hiding her face in the shoulders of the Davester in front of her. “Please, just a little more!”

She could almost hear him smiling. “But you told me to take control, my dear sister. And so I am.” Another pair of hands appeared at each side, taking her arms and unwrapping them from Davester No.2's neck. Her wide eyes darted back and forth between them as they lifted her up, by forearm and thigh, right off of the shaft she had been riding. Water poured and dripped off her as they raised her above the bath and held her there. Confusion and an aching sense of emptiness numbed her tongue, and she could only watch in bewilderment as present Davester stood up, helped No.2 to his feet and began to drizzle a bottle of lube over his swelling hard-on. No.2's breath hitched as No.1 stroked and slathered him up, eyes rolling up and drifting closed.

“What...?” was all Rose managed to squeak out. No.1 glanced at her, gave her a mischievous smile, and pulled No.2 into an erotic kiss.

_Oh. Damn. That is HOT._

They parted, No.2 slipping around behind while No.1 returned his attentions to her, this time from in front. The two newest Davesters let her lean forward and embrace him, gently supporting her legs and lowering her upon the eagerly waiting erection behind her. She sighed with relief to be filled again, then gazed into the eyes of No.1, present, _her_ Davester. What about him?

A finger slipped inside her, then another, and more. They were stretching her, holding her open, widening her up to receive two where once there was one.

_Oh._

She must have made a hilarious face when she figured it out, because the corners of Davester's eyes crinkled with laughter. He leaned in to kiss her, long and hard, as he moved flush against her body, the invading fingers slowly slipping away as he pushed his way inside her. _Oh god, this is more like the pain I was expecting_ , Rose thought as her nails dug tracks into his back. And yet, at the same time it felt amazing, moreso as she regained control over her breathing and forced herself to relax. She _had_ to relax. To do anything else hurt, but when she loosened up and accepted them both, it felt _astounding_.

“Oh god,” she whimpered as she arched, resting the back of her head on the shoulders behind her. “Oh _fuck_. D-Davester, I'm not going to last long like this _at all._ ”

“Neither will we,” two voices replied in unison, so choked up it was a wonder they could speak at all. It was several long moments before either of them dared to move, and when they did they both made such rumbling moans that Rose could feel the reverberations everywhere their skin touched hers. They slowly worked their way up to a faster, asynchronous rhythm, making her moan louder than the both of them combined. Rose didn't know what she preferred more, when they worked one at a time or together. When one was on his way out while the other was on his way in, just imagining their foreskins rubbing and stretching as they stroked each other inside of her made her want to come; but when they worked together, both of them filling her up and stretching her as far as she could go, pressing and stroking against every sensitive nerve along the way...

Fuck, there was no imagining required. She was going to come whether she wanted to or not.

Fire engulfed her as she flushed red from head to toe. Her moans became gasps, became shrieks, became screams. More and more hands appeared, holding her arms wide and imprisoned, spreading her legs wider, squeezing her ass and groping her chest, tweaking her nipples and thumbing her clit, stroking her hair and kissing her lips. She went tense all over, spread wide and at their mercy and as safe as can be, brought to the highest peak she had ever felt in her life and borne over it by dozens of lustful, worshipful, powerful hands.

She let them carry her away, she gave them her body as she wailed and spasmed around the two swollen shafts that were sheathed within her, making their owners choke and moan and erupt in pulsing torrents of come that filled her so full it had to leak out, the oozing rivulets smearing all over the tightened balls that were still firing more into her. Her vision went white as aftershocks of pleasure rolled through her body, which had gone limp in their arms. The extra hands slowly disappeared as she felt herself being lowered, gently, back into the water. No.3 and 4 finally released her thighs and vanished, and with great care, No.2 pulled out and wrapped her around the No.1, like arranging a doll's limbs. With him gone, Rose sighed and rested her head on Davester's chest, more exhausted than she'd ever felt in her life.

“What do you think?” he whispered in her ear. “Of my best judgment?”

She tried to speak, but nothing came out, so she just worked up a tired but satisfied smile. Her eyes were determined to drift shut, and nothing seemed to discourage them.

“It's okay, Rose,” he said soothingly. “Go to sleep. You've fought off your desires for so long, is it any wonder you're tired? You always get stuck being the responsible one, but you don't have to take that role anymore, not if you don't want to. Surrender it to me. I'll take care of everything.”

Her lashes twitched and were still, and she melted into his embrace.

* * *

“Give it a rest, Karkles, you're never going to hack that lock.”

Aradia tapped her foot, arms crossed, rapidly losing patience with watching her leader fail to break into Sollux's room and Terezi tease him about it in the most unhelpful way possible. “This is ridiculous,” she finally muttered.

The two trolls blinked and looked up at her, as if they had forgotten she was there. “What?”

“While you two bicker, time is ticking past. And just because I have plenty doesn't mean I'll be lenient to those who waste it.”

“What's the hurry? Do you think they might be hurt?”

“I don't know. I just have a bad feeling. We don't even know if either of them are in there.” She sighed and looked away, dark red eyes staring into the endless lengths of the corridors. “I think... I'm going to pop into the future and find out where they are. I'll come back and point you in the right direction.”

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Karkat responded as she vanished in a flash of red light and clockwork. He turned back to the keypad on Sollux's door and glared at it, preparing to unleash another colorful chain of insults upon it for its frustrating reticence.

“Why don't you let _me_ see it,” Terezi asked for the third time, poking the dragon-head of her cane insistently at the side of his head.

“I already told you, you slobbering, rabid moron, are you deaf as well as blind? If _I_ can't hack it, what on earth makes you think _you_ can? Besides, your drool will short out the keypad, and then where will we be?”

“I just want to look at it, I didn't say I was going to hack it! Jegus, Karkat! You're just afraid I'll somehow accidentally solve the code and make you look like an idiot.” When she got no response, she shrugged her shoulders and finally did what she should have done in the first place; namely, sweeping her cane under his feet and knocking him flat on his back.

“'The hell!” he squawked as he coughed, the wind knocked out of him. Terezi flashed him a grin and stepped over his sprawling limbs, leaning close to the keypad and taking a dramatically loud sniff. Her matesprit growled as he struggled back to his feet, but he didn't try to push her back this time. Feeling triumphant, she took an exaggerated lick up the panel's surface, enjoying the way he sneered and rolled his eyes, looking away in a sulk.

Terezi paused, smacking her lips slightly as she analyzed the taste. Her eyebrows drew together as she pursed her lips in puzzlement. She sniffed the panel again, long deep sniffs that meant she was really studying something, not just casually getting a reading or goofing around. She pressed her hands to the wall, steadying herself for another long, slow lick. Karkat glanced surreptitiously at her from the corner of his eye, then turned his head casually as he grew curious.

“What?”

She looked at him, all teasing gone from her face. “What's that?” she asked, pointing to something on the panel.

Karkat leaned down and stared at it closely. There was a row of long streaks across the metal plate, skinny parallel lines that went from one side to the other. “They're just scratches. So what? My panel's covered in them.”

“His isn't,” she pointed out. True, aside from that one instance, it was flawless. “He keeps his claws pretty short, so it's easier to type.”

Karkat scratched his head. “Maybe he fell behind on grooming?”

“They taste like Kanaya.”

“Now, I _know_ Kanaya keeps her claws short, so she can wear all those silly gloves. She was wearing some today, no way _she_ fell behind.”

“Which begs the question: how could she leave scratches? And more importantly, _why_ would she? She always moves with such grace!”

Karkat nodded, then stopped and stared at her. “Why have you been watching the way she moves?” he inquired suspiciously.

She grinned, all teeth. “Maybe I've been keeping an eye out, so to speak, for a new matesprit to take your place after our inevitable descent to kissmesissitude?”

He growled so fiercely that his hair stood up in a ridge along his head. Terezi laughed and slapped him hard on the back. “Just kidding, Karkles, you know you're the only redrom for me! Now enough silliness, we have a mystery to investigate.”

Karkat calmed down, but only because he couldn't be jealous and embarrassed at the same time. “Oh god, no.”

“Would you like to be Inspector Berrybreath or Doctor Honeytongue?”

“ _Fuck_ no, we're not playing that shit. I'm putting my foot down _right now_.”

“You're right, Doctor Honeytongue it is. You've even got his red eyes.”

“Here's a better idea! Let's go find Egbert and have him do the windy thing, he can find anything with his stupid pet breeze. Then we'll know exactly where they are and if it's worth the effort of breaking down any doors! Sounds good to _me._ ”

“Aw. You and Aradia are such cheaters, always doing everything the easy way,” she sulked. Silence descended upon the corridor as they both came to the same, sudden realization. “Where is she, anyway?”

Karkat looked both ways, but no fairy-winged troll appeared. “She should be here! No matter how long she takes, she always times things to reappear right after she left...”

“Maybe she forgot? Or got waylaid as she ran back to our location?” They waited, but no one came running out from around a corridor, shouting breathless apologies and explanations.

Karkat reached out and found Terezi's hand, gripping it tightly. She squeezed back and moved to his side.

“Come on,” he tried to growl gruffly, but couldn't hide the undercurrent of worry in his voice. “Let's go see John.”

* * *


	7. Kiss Me

“Nah, it isn't like that, little girl,” Gamzee said as he pried open the giant wooden crate stashed in the corner of his respiteblock. His unfocused eyes seemed to grow a little watery at the sight of what was inside. “I did somethin'... _bad_ , a while back. I can't be all leaving my old horn pile out where any ol' motherfucker can up and get his stumble on it, you know? Makes them remember. Makes them look at me like--” He stopped suddenly and didn't finish.

Pulling a single horn out of the crate, he held it reverently between his knobby fingers like it was a treasure. He trailed a claw over its tarnished surface, then pressed gently against the soft rubber bulb, too lightly to make a sound.

“Oeid xn xd?” Rosester asked after the silence grew painful, her head tilted to the side in curiosity. Gamzee blinked and looked down, as if he had forgotten that she was there.

“It's a horn, sister. Honk honk!” He promptly looked abashed, eyes darting to and fro as if expecting a snarling reprimand. Rosester giggled and took it, examining it with wide, innocent eyes. She gave it an experimental squeeze, jumping when it blared.

“Xdn nn dnbe!” she squeaked, then tried it again, delighted. Gamzee's eyes rolled up in his head, bliss stealing over him at the sound of his dear old horns. When he looked down again, she was peering into the crate with amazement. “Ne, ono! Eno ciad en dnb eill xa delal?”

“What's that, sopor sister?”

She pointed a finger at the horns and bobbed it over them in a counting motion.

“Gotcha. You know, I don't rightly know. At least a couple a'hundred.”

Eyes filled with childlike joy beamed up at him. “Mia ol dld delc nbd?” she asked as she tugged eagerly at the wooden frame of the crate.

“That's probably not such a good idea,” he began, only to lose track of his sentence when she succeeded at prying open one of the sides; she was stronger than she looked. Rosester stepped out of the way and let it fall in a cascade of rubber thumps and breathless honks. As Gamzee watched in paralyzed fascination, she pried the rest of the crate apart, leaving only a mountainous troll-pile of black and silver. Without waiting for permission, she stepped up to the base and tested the surface with a foot. A few muffled honks arose but for the most part the pile didn't move, so she reached out with her hands began trying to climb.

It promptly avalanched beneath her touch, sending her sprawling back to the floor in a shower of noise and horns. She burst out laughing and looked up at him, only for her smile to fade when she saw his expression. “Eld... oeidn oanas?”

Gamzee stared down at the mess with bleary eyes, a mixture of longing and apprehension flickering across his face. “You really shouldn't have all up and done that.” He reached up as if to rub his temples, only to trail his fingers lightly over his scars instead; three long, diagonal scratches that marred his face from forehead to chin. “No, I—let's put them back.”

She clambered back to her feet and touched his elbow, coaxing his arm back down. She barely came up to his chest in height, rather like Karkat in that respect. She also seemed to share his gentle, soothing manner as she papped her tiny hand upon his own. “Xdn nnid... xdn nnid.”

“It'll never be okay,” he muttered with eyes closed, but put up no resistance as he was pulled firmly toward the pile. Horns honked and squeaked and crunched under his feet; he was a lot heavier than he used to be. She continued to pull insistently on his arm, until he let out a shaky sigh and crawled on top of the mound. It welcomed him with its nostalgic cries and familiar mixture of softness and jabbing, sharp edges. Gamzee fought back a sniffle. Memories were washing over him, the long, lonely, guilt-free nights of his youth. Friends that were long gone. Pity that never had a chance to bloom. Blind faith in miracles.

“Sister, I don't want to be here,” he choked out, his voice far too tight. A moment later she climbed up beside him and made little slithering shooshing noises, coaxing him to lay down, to place his head in her lap. With great reluctance he complied, every muscle tense. “Is this some of your human therapies?”

She nodded and stroked his hair.

“My pale-bro says it's better to leave the bullet inside than to be all killing the troll in your attempt to get it out.”

She brushed the comment aside with a wave of her hand. “Ananlanl. Deidn i dlallmddd immlddisdl alnbdd.”

“I wish I could get my understanding on to your funny language.”

She smiled sweetly and petted his hair with soft, gentle strokes. Gamzee gave a heavy sigh and resigned himself to it, staring across the room at the bland gray walls. It was nice and all for the human to try to do this for him, but he didn't think it was going to help. It just made him feel guilty. He didn't deserve his old joys. And he shouldn't be doing something so dangerously close to pale-cheating. Even if it didn't mean the same thing to humans, it would still hurt Karkat if he saw this.

The green glow Rosester cast glimmered gently on the metal walls, like moonlight on the vast, lonely ocean. More miserable memories. Now he was thinking of long nights that always gave way to dawn with no sign of his lusus. Just the sound of the ocean and the twinkle of stars, their glittering light washed away by the coming sun.

The white noise of waves. The lullaby of tweetbeasts at dawn. Soothing strokes across his untamed hair.

The wrinkles in Gamzee's forehead were easing as his eyelids drooped lower. The tension ebbed from his shoulders as his thoughts grew even less lucid then normal. He knew his dreams would be unpleasant after all this remembering, but he still didn't try to resist the fog of sleep. Best to humor the little human lady...

Rosester smiled as she watched the troll's breathing slow and his eyelids give up the fight and finally stay closed. She waited quietly for a few minutes more, then ever-so-slowly reached one hand up behind her head. Her hair fell down in wisps around her face as she pulled out the knitting needles that had been pinning it up. The ends were still stained with yellow.

Gamzee's neck, usually well hidden under that massive mane of hair, was clearly exposed thanks to the seemingly innocent work of her hands. The soft ripple of Rosester's glow sharpened into harsh flames as she raised her needles high, a vicious smile of delight stretching across her face.

As she thrust her hand downward, another one rose to meet it, clamping around her wrist like a manacle.

“It's hard to sleep when the peace is all interrupted by so much bloodlust, sister.”

Shocked eyes stared down at the yellow sliver of Gamzee's as he cracked open an eyelid. With casual, languid movements he sat up, pulling her captured hand and the stained needles she gripped up to his face for closer inspection. “What be all this, then?”

She didn't answer, but sweat began to bead on her brow.

“You know, this brother here is something of an expert when it comes to troll blood. And he knows a mustard stain that's got nothing to do with grubsauce when he sees it.” His eyes drifted down her arm and back to her face. “I haven't seen my buddy Sollux yet today, come to think on it.” His fingers tightened threateningly. “Have you?”

“Dnbal ebadxas cl,” she whimpered, glancing around the room as if looking for a way out. She pulled uselessly at his fingers with her other hand. He gripped even tighter, eliciting a sharp hiss. Her lips pulled into an ugly sneer, baring her teeth as she snarled at him. “Dld sn, malld!”

Gamzee flashed his jagged teeth in return, the growl in his throat building up to such powerful vibrations that the horn pile was trembling. There was a sharp snapping sound, followed by a yelping shriek of pain. Rosester stared at him with panic in her eyes as he dragged her by her broken wrist down the pile, back onto sturdier footing. She lashed out at his legs with her feet, trying to stab him with her high heels, but it might as well have been a feather's touch for all he noticed.

“You ain't no miracle at all, are you?” he asked with a deceptively calm voice as he held her high, letting her flail and snarl uselessly. “Just another two-faced clown is what you are, all promising sweet nothings with grinning teeth rotted through. Painting pretty lies with the blood of others and calling it a masterpiece. Well it's _not_ , sister, it's a horror that haunts the living dead, silent screams in the darkness under your eyelids. Guilt be just a blink away, and all the sopor in the universe can't soothe those daymares.” He was silent a moment as he watched her struggle, disappointment curling his lip. “But _you_ don't feel guilt, do you.”

Rosester managed to spare a moment in her flailing to roll her eyes and give him a patronizing snort. Upon looking back at him, though, she went stock-still, her intake of breath making a soft whistling sound in the sudden silence. He had a weapon in his other hand now, and its rainbow colors and ridiculous smiley-face did little to disguise how seriously dead it could make her. Her eyes darted up to his face, and if anything, her dismay seemed to deepen at what she saw there.

[](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/45152499205)

Gamzee's face could curdle a sopor pie with a glance at the best of times, and this was _not_ the best of times. His wild hair seemed to levitate as his hackles rose, spittle frothing and bubbling between his fangs as his growl dropped down to a pitch so deep it was more felt than heard. The pupils of his eyes grew larger and larger, obscuring the purple, obscuring the orange, until it was like looking into an abyss of darkness, a black hole; sucking in all the light, even _hers._

“Oixd,” she whispered, her own voice startling herself out of paralysis. Frantic eyes darted around the room, looking for something that she couldn't seem to find. “O-oixd! Aielndla? Dnbal elal sd ano, axsed? Axsed?” For a brief moment her toes touched ground again and she tried to take some of the weight off her captured, fractured wrist, but Gamzee still held her just a hair too high. “Dexn xnad lbaad, eln aliddd snxas dn nxdd cl! Aielndla? ELDD CL!!”

Like some kind of terrible executioner, Gamzee raised the Hammer of Zillyhoo high, the muscles in his arm tensing as they prepared to bring every last drop of strength into play. Rosester took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and gave in to the scream.

The hammer struck, a skull shattered, and bits of brain matter splattered across the room.

Rosester screamed and screamed and screamed, even after her wrist was released and she collapsed on the floor. It wasn't until Gamzee's body fell down beside her with a massive crash that her throat seized shut and she opened her eyes out of reflex. The troll was dead. Very much dead. The head of his hammer dripped with his own purple blood.

She stared at it blankly for a while, shivering more and more violently, until she finally looked up to see Jadester smiling down in her usual smug sort of way.

“All I had to do was bend space into a circle,” she shrugged, gesturing with a single finger to illustrate. “A foe that strong is best fought by turning his own strength against him. Didn't even break a sweat.”

“You--” Rosester choked out, “you could have _let me in on the plan!_ I thought I'd messed up! I thought I was really going to die!” Tears of fear and anger finally started pouring out, her body wracked with tremors.

“But how often to I get to see you like this?” Jadester murmured as she crouched down beside her, running a hand up through her wispy hair. “Look at you, you can't even stand up. You're a mess.” She pushed her, not ungently, to the floor and began lapping up her tear soaked cheeks like they were candy. “You're an absolute _wretch_. It's gorgeous.”

“Y-y-you're h-h-horrible,” she sobbed through clattering teeth. Jadester smiled and settled her body down on top of her, all blazing heat and pressing weight. It was strangely comforting. “Y-y-y-you're only this n-n-nice after you've b-b-b-b-b-”

“--been more of a bitch than usual, I know. But hey, at least you know I'm not going to do anything mean _now._ Relax. I'll make it _all_ better.” Firm hands kneaded into her shoulders, then trailed down spasming arms to thread themselves through clammy fingers. Kisses snuffled over cold ears and trailed warm and moist over a rushing pulse. With a flex of space-powers, clothes vanished and skin pressed against skin. “You'll be right as rain in no time. For now, though...” She breathed in deep of the mingling bouquet of fear and shock, savoring it like a fine wine. “Let me _enjoy_ this _._ ”

* * *

“John, I'm not joking around here, get out of bed! I thought we all agreed to share the same sleep cycles, no matter what we call them!” Karkat banged on the door to John's quarters again, teeth bared in irritation. Terezi shifted with nervous energy beside him, the knuckles gripping her cane white with tension. The thick metal door muffled most noises, so they couldn't tell if John was even in there or not. But they had no where else to go.

 _Finally_ , the door slid open. John stared blearily at them, still pulling his wrinkled shirt over his torso. “Dude, what?” he mumbled, his voice scratchy with sleep.

Karkat gaped at him for a moment, nose wrinkling. “You look like shit.”

John opened his mouth but could not think of a retort, so he turned away. “Going back to bed now.”

“Waitwaitwait, hold on!” The two trolls slipped into his room before the door could close and cut off his retreat to the horizontal sleeping cushion. Terezi sniffed the air curiously while Karkat spit out what he came to say. “We need your help.”

“Doing what?” he asked, plopping down in his desk chair and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Finding people. Both Sollux and Kanaya are missing.”

John repositioned his glasses and stared up at him, a suggestive smirk twitching at his lips. “Maybe they want some alone time?”

“I understand that your human puberty means you see the world through a pair of pails instead of proper vision-enhancing lenses, so perhaps you should try using a _different_ sensory input. Listen to the sound of my voice. Do I sound like someone who came pounding on your door just for excrement and high-pitched laughter?”

John stared at him blankly for an exasperatingly long moment before finally saying “ _Oh_ , you mean shits and giggles?”

There was a sound like pressurized contents about to blow. “ _John. Windy thing. Now._ ”

“Okay, okay, keep your horns on! There's only so many places they could have gone to.” With a dramatic sigh of long-suffering, he closed his eyes and concentrated on commanding the wind. His hair rustled and his skin glowed as the power rushed to obey his command. Karkat folded his arms and shifted his weight as he waited, only jumping slightly when Terezi came up behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder. The day had not yet come when he grew tall enough to prevent her from doing that anymore.

“Hey Karkat,” she said softly into his ear.

“What?” he muttered back, not wanting to provide the slightest distraction now that the Heir of Breathtaking Procrastination was finally getting down to business.

“I think somebody got pailed last night.” She grinned at the sour look that instantly puckered Karkat's features.

“ _Please_ spare me the details.”

“This room smells wildly of human sex--”

“How do you know what _that_ smells like?”

“--and trickster sugar.”

“ _Seriously?_ He's known her for all of one day.”

“How do you know which one it was?”

“Who else would it be? Uhg, I'm going to have to have a talk with him about this.”

“Which pertinent movie will you be forcing him to watch for this 'talk?'”

Karkat shot her a look and opened his mouth, but before his argument could even get started, John made a surprised sort of noise. Their attention turned to him, taking in his startled expression. “What? What did you find?”

“I... nothing.”

“How can you have found _nothing?_ There's nowhere on this rock your wind can't go!”

“Well it didn't find them! Either they're in an airtight room, or they're not breathing, or they're not on the asteroid!”

Karkat felt a swift return of the sickening, sinking feeling in his gut. “Well, try again! And this time, also look for..” He struggled with what to say. “Look for... inanimate...”

He couldn't finish, but John swallowed and nodded, looking far more awake and serious this time as he sent out the wind and listened for its reports. Karkat clenched his fists, the points of his claws digging into the tender skin of his palms. For all of Terezi's joviality in the face of ominous news, he could hear the sound of her teeth grinding beside his ear as she clenched her jaw.

There was a soft gasp from John, and Karkat knew by the stricken look on his face that there wasn't going to be an innocent explanation to all this.

“I think I found Sollux,” he whispered hoarsely.

* * *

He looked smaller in death.

That was all John could think of as he stared at the cold, still body of one of his friends, one of the only people still in existence in the fucked-up remains of two universes. Sollux had been left in a dark corner on one of the lowest levels that made up the abandoned laboratory they called home, his body slightly curled up, his eyes cloudy and staring. Terezi was examining him for the cause of death, lips pressed grimly tight. Karkat had sunk to his knees, hands suspended halfway up to his face. As if he'd been about to bow his head into them, only to shut down halfway through the action. His face was frozen in an expression of disbelieving shock.

“He can't be gone. He can't be gone. He just can't be _gone_ ,” he chanted softly, bloodshot eyes staring unfocused at a gray patch of wall.

John bit his lip and hovered in a non-literal fashion behind him, uncertain of what to do. Any consoling words that came to mind felt cheap. After all, he still had all _his_ original friends. Karkat had lost half of them years ago, and now his bestest was gone too. John's mind shriveled away from even _imagining_ life without Dave. How could he provide even the tiniest shred of comfort in the face of... this? His eyes shifted uncomfortably to the side, then slid up to focus on Terezi as she straightened and cursed.

“What... what did you find?” John asked once it became obvious Karkat wasn't going to.

Terezi's face turned toward him, stretched in a mixed grimace of emotions: brows raised with disbelief, a forehead wrinkled with confusion, teeth bared with grief, her jaw tight with determination. “I've sniffed as carefully as I can, over and over again” she prefaced, as if apology, “but I just can't find any other possible cause of death!” Turning back and crouching down again, she gently raised a hand and made as if to trace her fingers across the line of Sollux's neck. “He bled to death. From... two small punctures. Right here.”

From the corner of John's eye, Karkat didn't appear to react, but he could tell all the same that his breathing had suddenly stopped.

“You mean, like,” he couldn't stop his _stupid mouth_ from running on, “fang marks?”

Karkat's shoulders definitely flinched that time. John didn't know exactly what relationship his fellow friendleader had with Kanaya, since his love-quadrants were already taken, but he knew she was just as important to him as Sollux was.

“That... I just don't know what _else_ it could be!” Terezi cried in frustration. “There are hardly any 2dent pronged hazards around he could have accidentally run into! And even if there were, how would he have ended up tucked away down here? A second party was clearly involved, and what other weapon do we know of that fits the bill?!”

“I don't know! But, but,” his gaze darted back and forth between the two trolls, “there's gotta be something! Something we haven't considered yet!” His voice was growing shrill, he knew, but it just couldn't be true. It couldn't be, because it was just too cruel to Karkat!

_Isn't there anything else that could have caused it? Think, John! If not two fangs, what else? A sharpened tuning fork? No, that's stupid. Maybe it wasn't one item with two points, maybe it was something with several points. Or two items with one point. Like a pair of icepicks. Or--_

An image suddenly flashed in John's mind, of a pair of knitting needles.

An im age su dd enly flas hed in Jo h n's m i   n    d

a n   i m   a   g e     s

a

John blinked, but everything seemed hazy and fuzzy. He wondered if he was going into shock, and thought that seemed ridiculous after everything he'd already been through. Terezi was kneeling beside Karkat now, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she whispered into his ear. At least, John thought she was whispering, since her words seemed muffled and unrecognizable. When had she moved, anyway?

“We... we should talk to Kanaya,” he tried to say, but his tongue was strangely thick. “Get her side...”

“And where would we find her?” Terezi asked rather acidly, her voice sounding like it was echoing across a wide valley. “She doesn't need to breathe, that makes it a lot easier to hide from your powers.”

“Well... where is she likely to go?” John asked as he stepped forward, oddly unsteady as he stared up the center of the spiraling staircase into the darkness far, far above. “Where would she normally be, maybe? We could start there.”

Terezi sighed shakily. “Probably with Rose.”

John felt his own breath freeze in his lungs, this time. Kanaya—if she really was guilty—with Rose— _no!!_

An image suddenly flashed in John's mind, of Rose's beautiful eyes as cloudy and lifeless as Sollux's were now.

The image suddenly flashed in John's mind—and it stayed so blindingly in the forefront that he could see or think of little else. “Rose!” he whimpered as the Breeze suddenly swarmed around him and lifted him off his feet, shooting him up the center of the spiral steps like a rocket into space.

“John, wait!” Terezi cried, trying to drag Karkat to his feet, but he was already gone.

* * *

The door to Rose's quarters rattled under the sudden change in pressure as John landed in front of it with a gust of air.

“Rose?” he shouted as he began pounding his fist on the metal surface. “Rose, are you in there? Please say you're in there. Please be all right!” He stilled for a moment to listen, eyes dilated and frantic. All was ominously quiet within. Taking a deep breath, he tapped the button to open her door, but unsurprisingly it was locked. Trying desperately not to panic, he took a step back and glanced up and down the hall, rubbing his hands through his unruly hair and tugging on it sharply.

_Give her more than two seconds to get up and come to the door before you assume the worst, jeez._

“Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay,” he chanted softly as his eyes tried to bore a hole into the door. No such luck, of course, so he sent a little wisp of wind under it instead. It carried back to him the gentle sound of breathing, in the slow, even pattern that came with sleep. John took a shaky breath of air for himself as the edge of his panic was blunted slightly. _Okay. She's okay. Or at least, she's alive. Or at least, someone's in there who is alive, and it's most likely her._

There was a sudden whoosh as the metal door slid open, almost startling him out of his skin. Davester stood in the doorway with wide eyes, looking him up and down. “What is it, what's wrong?”

“Is Rose okay?” John asked, bobbing up and down as he tried to peer over the Trickster's shoulders into the dim room.

“Yeah, she's fine,” he replied with obvious bewilderment, stepping aside and letting him in, gesturing towards a frilly lavender bed in the corner. John rushed past him and stumbled up to her bedside, desperate to see the truth with his own eyes.

Rose's short blond hair was splayed across her pillow, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Her covers were pulled up over her shoulders, but John could still see the nape of her neck, smooth and unharmed. No fangmarks. No blood.

John closed his eyes and felt a rush of relief so dizzying he had to sit down. “She's really okay,” he whispered, looking up to stare blankly across the room. After a moment he shook his head and twirled his finger, a current of wind circling at his touch. “Rose is safe,” he said clearly, as if giving a report. “Kanaya isn't here.” The wind whipped away out the door, ruffling Davester's pistachio-green hair as it passed.

“What was that about?” he asked as he closed the door, eyebrows high.

John gave a heavy sigh, the kind that could weigh down an entire room. “Sollux. He's _dead_. And it looks like... like Kanaya did it.”

Davester's eyes grew huge, and then suddenly he was crouched down in front of him, hands pressed on John's shoulders. “That's _terrible!_ ” he hissed, emphatic but softly enough not to disturb Rose's sleep. “I mean, you guys said that the trolls were a violent race, but that they were better now! How could... I mean... are _you_ alright?”

John flashed him a brief half-smile of a grimace, as if shrugging with his lips. “Sure, why wouldn't I be?”

“Dude, someone you've lived side by side with for who-knows-how-long just _died._ Why _would_ you be?” Davester studied him for a moment, then suddenly leaned into him, wrapping John up into an encompassing hug.

“What are you doing?”

“You are shaking like a _leaf_ , man. Just chill, I got you.”

“I... I am not,” he murmured, then stopped when he heard the chatter of his teeth. _Am I?_ “I'm just a little cold, that's all.”

“Sure, John. Sure. Here, I'll get you a blanket, okay?” Davester pulled away and stood up, and suddenly John _did_ feel cold. Just how warm was that guy? He watched passively as the strange copy of his best friend peeked into various drawers and under Rose's bed, finally pulling out a folded up length of soft-looking fleece. _This is kinda weird_ , he thought as Davester wrapped it around his shoulders, tugging gently on it here and there until it was wrapped snug around him. _Dave's not exactly the doting type._

When his hand was turned over and two fingers pressed against his wrist, though, John pulled it away. “Come on, I'm not in shock. How could I be in shock? The game was so much worse than this and I pulled through just fine. I mean, I lost my Dad, my whole planet, everything. This is... this is nothing.”

Davester gave him a sympathetic look that made him squirm. “I'd think that makes it worse, really. It's easier not to flinch if you don't know how much a blow hurts.”

John blinked and stared at him, and this time when Davester took his hand to check his pulse, he didn't pull away. He looked to the side instead, watching the way the shape under Rose's covers rose and fell slightly with each breath. It was rather calming, and gave him something else to think about than... still shapes that didn't breathe at all.

“Shhhh,” Davester whispered, probably feeling the lurch in his pulse. He rubbed his hands over John's, trying to warm them up and get the circulation going. “Think about something else.”

“Uh,” John searched for a subject. “Um. What are you doing in here anyway? While Rose is sleeping.”

“She was exhausted, so I helped her to bed.”

“Oh.” He wondered why she was so tired, then wondered something else. “Why are you _still_ here, then?”

Davester flashed him a charming smile. “It would be awfully rude of me to be gone when she woke up, you know?”

John's forehead wrinkled. “Whyyyyy?”

His smile turned impish. “Weren't you happy when my sister was still there when _you_ woke up?”

John's face flushed. “You know about that?” he asked with a touch of apprehension. He tried to casually tug his hands away, but Davester was having none of that.

“Of course. She told me you took very good care of her! She was beaming, you know. I love to see her happy.”

“Oh,” John said as he looked away, turning even redder. “O-okay.” His eyes fell on Rose's sleeping form again, and then widened. “Wait—you mean, you and Rose... Uh. You two?”

“Well, yeah. Why do you think she's so tired?”

John gaped at him. Little stabs of jealousy pricked at him, but more than anything he just... “I did not see that coming,” he squeaked out. At Davester's puzzled look, he elaborated. “I mean, you—you're based on Dave!”

“Yes?” he said after a moment, clearly not getting it.

“Dave's her brother!”

Davester chuckled in relief. “Is that all? Come on, there were only four of you. Don't tell me you've never let your eyes wander over Jade before. Be honest!”

John hastily looked away again. “Well... maybe I have, but—but I didn't do anything at least!”

“Why not? I just don't get it. You guys have been living in misery when you could've been living in paradise all this time. I mean, don't you love each other?”

“Well, yeah--”

“So why not do all you can to make each other happy? Poor Jade, she's so tired of being afraid and ashamed all the time. You're the one she has the easiest time making progress with. Maybe you could have helped her more?”

“Oh come on, she would never--”

“Well, what about Dave, then? _He_ would.”

John finally succeeded at pulling his hands away. “He's supposed to! He and Jade are--”

“I meant, Dave would with _you._ ”

John stiffened and froze. “Wha-?” he began weakly. “Don't be ridiculous. He's my best bro...”

“Uh-huh,” came the flat response. “And you're his worst tormentor.”

“Wuh?”

“You think you had it bad, crushing on a girl who wasn't interested? At least you didn't feel like you had to _hide_ it from her to keep her friendship. Rose is magnanimous like that, isn't she?” he added with a beaming smile in her direction. “But poor Dave. Poor, poor, Dave.” A sliver of a glance back John's way. “Surely he was mistaken. I can't imagine that you would _really_ cause him the grief he fears just by knowing about his feelings... would you?”

John gaped. Some distant mental function pinged with a “door ajar” warning, but it went unheeded and his mouth remained open. All of John's thoughts were busy, half of them vehemently denying the slightest possibility of Davester's words being true, the other half running over all his interactions with Dave with a “yes homo?” magnifying glass.

Davester waited patiently for about twenty seconds before sighing and fidgeting with irritation. “Why's it such a big deal? Don't you love your friends? Don't you want them to be happy?”

John finally blinked and managed to respond. “Of course.”

“Then make them happy.” He slid up from his crouch in front of John to take a seat on the arm of the chair instead. The gentle, entreating words suddenly seemed to take a more commanding tone. “It's only the four of you. Forget what you think you know. Make up your own rules.”

John thought he probably should have spoke up immediately, but instead he was silent for far too long before he turned away, forehead wrinkling. “It's not that simple...” he mumbled, unable to articulate _why_ that was so. Rose would have been able to explain it better. He glanced at her again, still sleeping soundly despite their low conversation. She looked so relaxed, so beautiful with her lips gently parted.

A hand pressed heavily upon his shoulder as Davester took advantage of his turned head to lean down and whisper in his ear. “It _is_ simple. Everyone gets everything they ever wanted. Share and share alike.”

The way his words hissed with each whispered _sh-_ sound made him shiver. He shouldn't be listening to this...

“You, Rose and Dave find out what makes Jade happy.”

John opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He licked his dry lips instead and frowned, staring at his hands.

“You make Dave happy.”

He swallowed and fidgeted.

“Rose makes you happy.”

His breath froze in his chest for a second as his eyes darted up to her face again, beyond his control. The hand on his shoulder tightened, and the lips beside his ear almost seemed to smirk before they both suddenly pulled away. John looked up at him with wide eyes as he rose from his perch on the arm of the chair and strolled casually across the room. “Paradise, John, I'm telling you, you guys could've been living in paradise! Even more so now that we're here,” he added as an afterthought, then laughed. “Just imagine the fun you could get up to with _two_ Roses!

John imagined it. Vividly. He hunched over in his blanket, face growing red, and gave a nervous laugh. “What... what would I have to do, even?” he tried to ask jokingly.

“Just be willing to do for others what you'd like others to do for you,” Davester answered seriously as he leaned back against Rose's computer desk. “So, I guess... keep an open mind.”

“An open mind,” John repeated softly, his eyes drifting out of focus as he thought about the words.

Davester smiled, and if it was all teeth, John didn't notice.

* * *

Karkat opened another door.

It was stupid, he knew. There were hundreds of doors, down hundreds of hallways, to go through. The odds of them finding Kanaya this way, especially if she didn't want to be found, were incredibly slim. She could be anywhere. This would take forever. What would they even do if they found her and she really was guilty?

Karkat opened another door. Across the hall, Terezi opened another as well.

Nothing. It was dark in the room, but Kanaya's glow would have been easy to spot. Still, Karkat turned on the light and waited for it to power up. He swept the area with his eyes, seeing nothing and no one. He turned the light back off and let the door slide closed.

Terezi glanced at him as she closed her door as well, but he ignored her and shuffled down the hallway. There were lots more doors. They needed to check them all. It was a mindless task, which made it perfect.

Karkat opened another door. Terezi made a sort of frustrated, helpless noise, but did the same.

Nothing and no one. Time for the next door.

“Karkat,” she began hesitantly.

“What?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears. Like it was as gray in tone as it usually was in color.

“We should probably fall back. Regroup. Find all the others, tell them what's going on, form a strategy...”

Karkat stared blankly at the door he was in front of now. He pushed the open button, flipped the lights on and off, pushed the button again. “You want to be the leader or something?”

They walked down to the next set of doors. Click-open, click-lights, click-dark, click-closed. “Someone needs to be,” she said softly.

Karkat's lips pulled back into a grimace. “So let it be John.” Step step step step, click click click click.

“John went tearing off on his own, sent us a single report, and hasn't made a peep since. I don't know what he's doing, but I doubt it's taking charge of the situation.”

Another round of trudging steps. Another click x4 combo. “And you think I'm the one to do that? Really? After last time?” He couldn't even work up an appropriate amount of anger into his voice.

Terezi stared unseeingly at his back as he walked on to the next door, saying nothing. Karkat hunched his shoulders against it, stubbornly ignoring the shadow of guilt that tried to worm into the dull numbness he was feeling. He clicked the door-open button.

There was someone in the room.

Jade looked up from her experiment, startled. Karkat blinked and looked around, realizing he had stumbled upon one of her many labs. There were scorch marks here and there on the walls, proving she'd been using it for a while yet not long enough to warrant moving on to a new room yet. They stared at each other for a brief moment before Jade pulled her safety glasses off and offered him a smile. “Hey Karkat, what's up?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but explaining what was going on suddenly seemed _so hard._ His shoulders slumped and his eyes fell to the floor. Jade quickly pulled her gloves off and trotted over to the door, noticing Terezi coming up beside him and the grim expressions they both wore. “What happened?”

Karkat let his eyes close and leaned against the doorframe as Terezi did the explaining, barely twitching an ear at the concerned gasps the human made. He just felt so tired. What he would give if he could only curl up in his recuperacoon and wake up to find that this was all the imaginings of expired sopor slime.

“This is terrible! We gotta warn everyone,” Jade exclaimed as she pulled out one of her many computers. “Get everyone working together, make sure this doesn't get any worse...” She trailed off as her eyebrows drew together. “How can _no one_ be online at this time of day? That almost never happens!” She scowled as she put the computer away, muttering something about bad timing and healthy hobbies. “I guess we'll just have to round everyone up the hard way.”

Karkat followed her morosely as she started down the hallway, full of purpose. Terezi looked heartened to have another person in their party, someone who wasn't a useless failure and actually had a plan of some sort. “Where are we going?” she asked as they passed numerous doors without checking any of them.

“Usually everyone's logged in if they're in the computer room or their quarters, so we should check their other haunts. One of Dave's man-caves is not too far from here, then a few levels up is Rose's writing retreat. We can probably assume John is with her, wherever she is? Unless they split up to look too... hmm. There's a secret passage in another section where I've come across Gamzee a couple of times, he might be there. I don't know where we're likely to find the Tricksters but with any luck we'll come across them while we're searching for the others.”

Karkat had to admit, it _was_ kind of soothing to hear someone rattling off plans like they knew what they were doing. No wonder Terezi had been trying to get him to pull himself together. Maybe she needed this as much as he did. Good thing they had Jade to take the lead now.

Though that didn't explain why she hadn't stopped glancing at him in concern every few minutes.

When they finally came to a stop at their first destination, everyone just kind of... stared. Had there always been a room like this? Karkat vaguely recalled this being a giant cavern meant for the creation of chess people, but what met their eyes was an aftermath of _destruction_. Broken glass littered the floor like a minefield, glittering underneath wide puddles of slippery liquid.

“What _happened_ in here?” Jade whispered, aghast.

Terezi wrinkled her nose after a giant sniff, then froze. “Dave!” She bolted forward, glass crunching under her shoes like gravel.

“What? Where?” Jade ran after her without hesitation, leaving Karkat to pick his way slowly behind them. The girls came to a halt around a damp, huddled figure sitting against one of the walls, where they crouched down to examine it. Karkat watched with a sort of passive, half-hearted interest.

“Dave? Dave are you okay?”

“Wake up Dave! Are you hurt?”

The figure stirred reluctantly, his head drifting up from where it had been bowed over his knees. His shades masked his eyes, as usual, but his face was pale and his lips pressed tight. “I'm fine.”

“Then what happened? Did Kanaya do this?”

Dave's forehead wrinkled. “ _Kanaya?_ ” he asked in obvious disbelief. “How would _she_ do anything like this?” He rolled a shoulder that served the purpose of a glance around the room. “Nah, this is all my doing.”

The girls exchanged a glance that seemed to say _And how would_ you _do anything like this?_ Terezi pressed a hand tentatively on his arm. “What for?”

Dave seemed to draw in on himself even further. “Just 'cause.” He lowered his forehead to his crossed arms again, but with his head tilted in a way he could still see his moirail in the corner of his eye. “Hey, Terezi,” he mumbled, so softly that Karkat could barely make out the words. “Can I ask your honest opinion?”

“Of course...”

“Am I a bad person?”

And suddenly Karkat didn't want to overhear this conversation _at all._ The world seemed to come into focus in a sudden burst of detail and sound. He could hear the rumble of air traveling through ducts and vents, the tiny crunch of glass grit under his shoes as he shifted uncomfortably, the shuddering breath Terezi made as they all realized just how bad a way Dave was in. She had told him before how frustrating it was to get him to talk about his feelings, how guarded he was even when they were completely alone. Hearing him say things like this without care of his audience was _disturbing._

Karkat met Jade's eyes and gestured toward the exit with a toss of his head. She quickly took to her feet and retreated to his side, glancing back a time or two with wide eyes. Terezi watched them back away with a nod of her head.

“We'll just... keep on with the search, then. You can join us again when you're... yeah. Okay.” The two of them slipped across the room and out the doorway, their parting glance catching sight of Terezi sliding down against the wall to take her place at Dave's side. This was moirail-duty, and it wasn't their place to interrupt.

* * *

It took until they had finished searching Rose's writing hideout for it to dawn on Karkat that Terezi must have found his behavior just as disturbing as he found Dave's. He came to a sudden stop with the realization, causing Jade to run smack into his shoulder. She hastily pushed off of him with her hands, then paused as she saw the look on his face. “What?”

He shook his head, trying to find the words. “Just... Terezi. First she had to cope with her matesprit falling apart, then her moirail. At least with Dave she's allowed to put him back together.”

In his peripheral vision, he could see Jade's bright green eyes boring into the side of his face. “She's not allowed to put _you_ back together?”

Karkat frowned and shifted from foot to foot. Jade's hand stayed where it was, lightly pressed against his shirt. “It's a tricky subject. We both have moirails now, we really shouldn't... discuss... it's treading into another quadrant, and we already have enough trouble as it is.”

Jade cocked her head in a rather endearing manner. “You do?” Her hand hesitantly began rubbing up and down over his back, warm and distracting.

“Come on, you know how we bicker every time we're together! That's really not normal for matesprits.”

“Oh. I guess I did wonder about that.” Her gaze mercifully drifted to the floor, but her hand didn't stop stroking his shoulder-blades. Karkat squirmed uncomfortably and shifted away a step or two, out of reach. He knew enough about human culture to understand she was trying to be comforting, but that wasn't the effect it gave him. It couldn't be a natural gesture for her, not with her phobia. In fact he could not recall a single time she had ever touched him before now, and it wasn't for lack of paying attention. There had once been a time when he... but no, best not to think about old foolishness.

“Anyway, let's move on,” he said firmly to change the subject. “Where to next?”

“Two levels up and four major corridors over. That's where the secret passageway I've seen Gamzee at starts.”

“Lead the way,” he said with a sweep of his hand. As he fell in step behind her, however, it quickly became apparent that she either didn't notice or didn't care that he wanted to avoid the topic.

“So, why _are_ you guys still matesprits? Instead of kismesises... kismesese? Would that quadrant not fit either?”

He clenched his fists. “I don't hate Terezi. I could never hate her.”

“Oh. But... okay then, so what does that make you two?” She was walking backwards now, giving him no relief from her prying eyes. That was the only reason she caught the way he opened his mouth and closed it before answering.

“Messed up, I guess.”

Long dark hair flipped in a little pirouette, and suddenly she was walking at his side, their arms brushing. “What were you going to say first?”

“Nothing. It was stupid.”

“I won't laugh.”

His lips clenched, then released in a long sigh. “There's this... phrase that comes up sometimes in your human films. Every time I hear it I wonder what Terezi would say if someone said it about _us._ ”

Jade nudged his shoulder with hers as they walked along in step. “What phrase?”

Karkat could feel his cheeks warming up. “ _You two bicker like an old married couple._ ” He glanced at her nervously, but she merely stared blankly back.

“I thought trolls didn't get married.”

“They don't.”

A pause. “So why would the phrase mean anything to her--”

“Forget it,” he cut in irritably, quickening his steps to pull ahead. Jade blinked at him in puzzlement before trotting back up beside him, latching on to his arm with both hands.

“Hey, it's o--”

“Would you _stop touching me?!_ ” he snapped, ripping his arm out of her grasp with more force than necessary. Then he saw the expression that flashed across her face and instantly regretted it.

Jade turned her face away quickly, then ran ahead a few steps when she realized he could still see it. Karkat tried not to notice the way her ears were bright red with mortification, the way her shoulders were tense with hurt, the way her head was bowed with dejection. With a mounting sense of horror he realized how hard it must have been for her to reach out like that, how self-conscious about it she must have been.

“Fuck,” he whispered, threading his hands through his messy hair and tugging on it sharply. “Jade? I'm sorry. I wasn't mad at you, it's just a touchy subject--”

She flinched.

“Damn it, I mean... a sensitive subject! For me! You accidentally hit a nerve, that's all.”

He heard something that sounded horrifyingly like a sniffle. “Okay,” she said in a wavering voice that pierced him with stabs of guilt. “I'll try to avoid your nerve endings from now on.”

Karkat pulled his hair again in frustration and wondered how he always managed to fuck everything up.

* * *

John didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he woke with a start, his neck sore from the awkward position he'd sunk into on Rose's knitting chair. Davester hopped up from the foot of the bed to answer the door, and John realized it was the sound of knocking that had disturbed his nap. There was a whoosh as the metal door slid aside to reveal a silhouette in the hallway and then--

“WHOO-HOO!!” Johnster shouted with glee, throwing himself into Davester's arms and wrapping his legs around him, sending the two of them toppling over. “I did it!”

There was an irritated groan behind him, and John whipped his head around to see Rose stirring, her bleary eyes seeking out the source of the disturbance. “I'm so sorry, Rose,” came the muffled voice from the floor. “I wanted to let you sleep in as late as your heart desires, but it seems we have company. Noisy company.”

She sat up groggily, slowly taking in the state of her dress (a set of silky lavender pjs she didn't recall owning) and the state of her companionship (two Johns too many, and a Rosester peeking in shyly from the hallway.) “This is not how I imagined this would go,” she said dryly, with a hint of a sulk.

“I am so, so sorry,” her lover apologized again, looking so pathetic as he tried to wriggle out from Johnster's grasp that she couldn't help but smile. John, meanwhile, had bolted to his feet and was grinning shyly as he skirted round the tangle of limbs to the door.

“Hey, Rosester. Were you... were you looking for me?” When he held out his hands, she eagerly took them in hers, her flickering green light dancing with the touch.

“When I came back to your room, you were gone,” she said with an artful pout, peering up at him through her eyelashes. “Did you _want_ me to wait there, all alone?”

“No, of course not!” he said hastily. “You should do whatever you want! Find me, find your friends, whatever.”

She smiled brilliantly, then peered past him to see what was going on in the room. She spared only a moment's glance at her two mirror-brothers, then locked eyes on Rose, who appeared to sink down into the bed in hopes she wouldn't be noticed. It didn't work.

“Rosie!” she called as she flounced across the room, taking a seat on the side of the bed. Rose eyed her tensely, probably expecting to fend off hugs, but her Trickster merely brushed gloved hands over her short skirt, primly smoothing out any wrinkles before trying to look as refined and composed as it was possible for her to be. She gave an exaggerated cough before asking, “And how are you?”

Rose met her polite stare with a skeptical one. “What.”

“I can't help but notice you have had relations with my brother. May I address you as 'sister' now?”

John had been making his way back over to the chair beside the bed, and couldn't stop the embarrassing snort of laughter that escaped. Rose spared him a brief glance, tinged with confusion. “What?”

“I think she's formally accepting you as her sister-in-law or something,” he snickered. Rose couldn't stop her eyes from seeking out Davester as a blush illuminated her ears, and suddenly she found herself in the exact same situation he was finally extricating himself from. Rosester could only pretend restraint for so long, after all.

John's eyes widened and he tried not to stare, but Rosester's skirt was so very close to flashing him as she stretched across the bed, and as Rose was pinned to the mattress her flimsy silk shirt kind of rucked up, its straps falling over her shoulders. He found himself terribly conscious of the way their chests were pressed together as Rosester hugged her with enthusiasm and buried her face against Rose's neck. He found himself shifting in a manner he hoped wasn't too obvious.

He was so entranced, in fact, that he didn't notice his own mirror-copy's advance until Johnster casually took a seat right on his lap. Davester walked around the bed and draped himself out right beside the two ladies, and suddenly everything seemed very, uncomfortably intimate.

“Get off me, man, you're heavy,” John mumbled, feeling the strong urge to fidget but unable to move. Johnster only settled himself in for the long haul, twisting sideways so he could drape his legs and prop up his elbows on chair's arms.

“You're a tough guy, you can handle it,” he said smugly, and John scowled. _Great, now I can't kick him off without looking like a wimp._ As he glared down at the offending set of limbs, his eyes caught on a strange mark on Johnster's forearm. It was a pale, narrow line set into the skin, like a scar from a knife wound.

“What happened there?” he asked, his irritation forgotten.

Johnster followed his gaze to the mark in question, then suddenly tensed up and covered it with his hand. When he removed it a second later, John caught a brief glimpse of unmarred skin, before he hastily covered it again and grew, if possible, even more tense. Johnster's mouth worked soundlessly as he floundered for something to say, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he laughed and relaxed, his hand darting up to pluck John's glasses off his face. The world went blurry as he cried out, “Hey!”

“Are you talking about this streak on your glasses? Woah, do you _ever_ clean these? I mean, dang.” Johnster inspected the lenses with amused horror, then straighted up so he could wipe them off on the corner of his shirt.

“You're not supposed to do that, you know,” John sulked, squinting as he watched. His Trickster only smiled as he inspected his cleaning job, then leaned in close to slip the glasses back over his ears. Warm breath ghosted over John's lips as the world came into focus again, Johnster's face mere inches from his own. His expression was surprisingly studious, eyes darting from side to side before adjusting the frames a little straighter.

“There,” he said with a gentle smile, holding unusually still. John found himself taking the opportunity to do a little studying of his own. None of the Tricksters appeared to have normal black pupils; where Rosester's were the same green as her smoky glow, Johnster's were a bright red. They dilated as he continued to stare, seeming to consume the blue irises that matched his own. It made him feel nervous, for some reason, and the urge to fidget was returning in full force.

Suddenly the room seemed unusually quiet, and he remembered that they weren't alone. Turning his head toward the bed, he realized with rising embarrassment that the other three, sprawled side by side, were watching him with interest. Only Rose twitched and hastily looked away, like she was equally embarrassed to be caught looking.

“Oh ho!” Rosester teased, prodding one of Rose's reddening cheeks. “I saw that.”

She stubbornly ignored her, looking over to Davester instead. He merely smiled and brushed the back of his fingers lovingly down her other cheek. “They _are_ pretty cute together, aren't they?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she sniffed.

“You two are pretty cute together, too,” he confessed with a smile, glancing up at John. “Aren't they?”

Now it was John's turn to feel like deer staring into imminent danger. “I wasn't thinking that!” he said hastily as Rose spared him an unamused look.

“Wasn't thinking _what_ , John?” Davester asked innocently. “How gorgeous my two darling sisters would look, curled up side by side in sleep, arms draped around bare skin?” Rose turned her glare back on him, lips pursed, but he flashed her a conspiratorial wink before returning his heavy-lidded gaze to John's wide-eyed one. “Or maybe you were thinking a little more adventurously than that. Maybe you were imaging a little hotblooded, open-mouthed kissing, hmmm? Perhaps even some wandering hands and gasping moans?”

“Nooo, I wasn't, I mean, th-th-that sort of thing, it's, um, would be terribly rude!”

“ _It certainly would be,_ ” Davester said with a sharp edge to his voice, making John flinch and everyone stare at him in surprise. He held his narrow-eyed expression for a beat, then let it soften into something gentle and a touch coy. “Unless you're willing to do the same, of course.”

John froze as he tried to figure out what that could mean besides _John sandwich_ , because he was 98% certain that was the wrong interpretation. Then Rosester sat up and squealed, her eyes darting back and forth between his and those of the boy currently sprawled in his lap, and the meaning finally clicked.

“You mean... make out with _him?_ ” he asked weakly, apprehension plain in his voice. He side-eyed his copy, taking in his boring muscular arms and his plain boyish face and his messy stupid hair. John had no illusions that he was hot stuff, and doubling nothing was still nothing. Boys were bland, and he was the blandest of all. Not like Rose, who was poetry in motion, all soft curves that looked as velvety as the petals of her namesake. Surely the only thing better than _one_ of her was _two_ \--

And then he noticed the expression on her face, the flash of disdain as she spared a glance at her own copy, and he remembered how much she'd disliked Rosester from the second she first saw her as a reflection in a mirror. Maybe Rose liked girls too, but she didn't like _that_ girl, not in the slightest. She was no more keen on this idea than he was, and suddenly he felt like a jerk.

“I was being rude, wasn't I?” he muttered, avoiding her eyes guiltily, then steeling his nerves and forcing himself to meet them. They were cool and unreadable, but softened when he squirmed and said, “I'm sorry.”

The three Tricksters seemed to exchange glances above their heads. “But... it's okay now, right?” Johnster butted in, and he almost seemed nervous. “I mean, you wanted to watch _us_ , didn't you Rose? And I don't mind! And I'm sure Rosester doesn't mind what you were wanting, John, do you Rosester?”

“No, I don't mind!”

“There, see? It's completely up to you two. Are you willing to play along a little to get something else you want? It won't be so bad, I promise! You wouldn't even have to do anything! We'll take care of everything, won't we--”

“ _Johnster_ ,” Davester broke in with a cough and a significant look, “ease up, man, let the lady talk for herself.” The Prankleader shut his mouth with a click, looking abashed.

Rosester turned and looked down at Rose, tugging her lip in an endearing display of uncertainty before saying, “Do you really hate me that much?”

John knew _he_ would have melted under those eyes and those words, but Rose merely looked to Davester expectantly. “She said,” he began slowly, and for the first time it occurred to John that Rose still couldn't understand a word of what her Trickster was saying, “that she'll respect your wishes on the matter.” He gave Rosester a significant look before scooting closer against Rose's side, his head propped up on one hand while the other trailed mindless patterns on the back of her hand. “We'd never try to pressure you into something you don't want, Rose. You know that's important to me. I guess I should apologize, too.”

John couldn't see how she responded to that, because Rosester was sliding to the edge of the bed and blocking his view. She slouched over with her elbows in her lap, accidentally giving him a first-class view of her cleavage as she fiddled with her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were a little watery. “I didn't know I was being _bad_ ,” she confessed with a sniffle.

“N-no, hey, it's okay,” John said softly, their third party forgotten as he rushed to console her. “Rose'll warm up to you eventually, just give her some more time!”

“But what about you?” she squeaked. “Aren't you mad at me, too?”

“What? No! Why would I be?”

“I made you _so_ uncomfortable...”

“What, _that?_ Pshhh, that was... that was nothing.” She looked away, clearly still troubled, and John grasped for some way to phrase it that was more convincing. Over Rosester's shoulder his eyes chanced upon the pair laying across the bed, and he caught a few phrases of muted conversation.

“...read the situation wrong...”

“...not completely your fault. I _was_ looking...”

 _Man, Davester's slick, if_ she's _apologizing to_ him.

Completely missing the irony, John brushed the thought aside and struggled harder for the right words that would put a smile back on Rosester's face. Davester probably would have known what to say. Actually, come to think of it...

“It's okay,” he began, tilting his head to try to catch Rosester's eye, “because I've decided to keep an open mind.”

She blinked and looked up at him, surprised. “How open?”

He grinned and turned to look at his copy, who was staring right back, still draped across the arms of the chair. His grin kind of froze in place, though, when he actually tried to consider... doing anything. _Yeah, John, just how open are you?_ “My mind,” he blurted out anyway, “is as open... as... a... book?”

“As open as a hole in the ground?” Johnster supplied helpfully.

“Yeah!” he agreed, turning back to the lovely lady beside him. She rewarded him with a tentative smile, stretching up to place a hand on the armrest beside Johnster's legs.

“Really?”

“Really!” He watched, entranced, as her fingers fluttered closer to his elbow. “So open you could fall right in. Totally open to new ideas.”

Johnster shifted in his lap “Open to having fun?”

“Open to good times!” Her hand finally brushed against his skin, and it made him ridiculously happy.

“Open to interpretation!” Johnster threw in with a laugh.

“Open to discussion!”

“Open to suggestion!”

“Open to the public!”

Rosester couldn't hold back a laugh, her hand trailing up under his sleeve to stroke muscles formed by too much hammer-swinging. “You two!” she giggled, eyes glistening with mirth as the threat of tears was chased away. “It's not fair when you team up!”

“Of course it isn't. We're the best team! _The best_.” Johnster shifted his weight and leaned in close, squeezing an arm between John's neck and the chair until it was settled over his shoulders. John blinked at him, hesitated only a split-second, then wrapped an arm around the other boy's torso in a gesture that, on further reflection, did not even remotely resemble a manly side-hug.

 _Aw, screw it. You're being open-minded, remember?_ “That's right. The Heirs of Breath will blow all other teams out of the water!” he declared loudly. And then he steeled his nerves, and closed the distance, and planted his lips on the corner of Johnster's mouth.

The room seemed terribly silent as he pulled away, nervously looking back and forth between the two Tricksters. Rosester's hand was gripping his arm with surprising force, a touch of pink dusting her cheeks below wide eyes. Johnster was staring at him like the cat that ate the canary, eyelashes heavy and lips curling into a smug smile. “And then maybe we'll blow _each other_ out of the water, hmm?” he practically purred.

John gasped out a nervous laugh, turning bright red as he looked away, flustered. “Um, wow, that... that's a bit...” He coughed and found himself looking at Rose instead, over on the bed where she was now sitting up beside Davester. They were both staring at him, the latter with raised eyebrows, the former with an unreadable expression.

John had a horrible thought, and rushed to clarify. “Um, don't feel like you have to, er, I wasn't trying to, you know, make you feel... obligated or something... that was just—that one was free.” He winced shook his head in frustration. “ _No_ , I mean...

“John,” she cut in smoothly before he could ramble on any further. “Calm down. I wasn't thinking that.”

“Oh.” They stared at each other for a moment before John tentatively asked, “Then... what does that face mean?”

She cocked her head. “I just never expected you to do something like that.”

John squirmed and looked away, pursing his lips as obstinacy creeped across his face. “It's not like what I will or won't do is set in stone,” he muttered.

“True. We're all capable of change. Learning new things about ourselves. Embracing our... adventurous side.” She waited until John met her eyes again, then gave him a faint smile. “You're right. I shouldn't be so surprised if the real you breaks free from the mold I've tried to wrap around you in my head.”

As John blinked, feeling oddly pleased, she turned to look at Davester again. “And you're right, too. There's no reason I shouldn't at least _ask_ for the things I'd like, as long as I'm not asking for things I'd be unwilling to do myself. Fairness is important.” He smiled fondly, stoking a lock of hair before glancing up at Rosester, who released John's arm and returned to Rose's side so fast all he saw was a streak of lime green. She peered at her hopefully, eagerly, and Rose couldn't resist a faint eye-roll before shifting her weight and giving her a peck on the lips, as chaste as John's has been.

The hammer of his heart skipped a beat as he watched, hardly daring to hope. Rosester snuggled into her arms as Davester casually slid back, giving them some room. Rose merely held John's gaze, an eyebrow quirking as if to say, _Well?_ “What you see is what you _do_ , John,” she said with a daring smirk.

He swallowed hard, and now the pounding in his chest felt like the Hammer of Zillyhoo. He felt as giddy as the first time he went flying, and Johnster looked positively ecstatic. Before he could backtrack and lose this reckless boldness that was possessing him, John pulled the Trickster in and kissed him proper.

At least, that had been his intention, but as Johnster kissed him back he realized the guy had probably never even _heard_ of that word. A hand was suddenly pressed against his jawline, encouraging him to turn his head more while his partner's mouth pressed hard and insistent, begging him to open up as he trapped him against the headrest. John parted his lips (not necessarily on purpose, though he couldn't be sure on that) and then a tongue was teasing his, little darting touches that almost made him want to laugh. If nothing else, Johnster had proved himself to be great fun from the moment they met, and even in this he was no less aggressively playful. His competitive edge stirring, John decided to try it out himself. He slipped his own tongue past over-sized teeth and grazed them against a matching set, curious what it would feel like inside a mouth simultaneously identical and completely different from his own.

Johnster chuckled for some reason, but it wasn't until it was too late to escape that John realized he'd fallen for his trap. With a sudden pull, he began _sucking on his tongue_. John made a shocked noise, but it was muffled and pulled in as well, consumed by the same inescapable force. His hands fisted tightly into Johnster's pink shirt, the fabric straining against his grip as he tugged at it in alarm. Electricity seemed to jolt through his body, pins and needles through every nerve, all stemming from this bizarre new sensation. He tried to pull his tongue back but he seriously _couldn't_ , and the weirdest thing was he was losing the desire to keep trying.

No, the weirdest thing was, his tongue was being sucked on and he _liked it._ There was something altogether gross and dirty and euphemistic about the whole affair that was stirring a reaction in all the wrong—no, the _right_ places. He would tease and let up slightly, then suck him in hard, then repeat, a pulsing force meant to convey a certain message that was coming in loud and clear.

His frantic pulling at Johnster's shirt was slowing, transforming into something more like kneading, more like clinging. He made another shocked noise, and this time it sounded very _different,_ less like a yelp and more like a shaky moan. Johnster finally released the pressure and pulled away regretfully, giving them a chance to gasp for air and stare at each other's wet, reddened lips.

“Well,” a rather affected voice said after a few moments, “that was quite a start.” The Roses were staring at them with rather flushed faces themselves, and John couldn't believe he had actually forgotten, if only for the briefest of moments, that they were watching. He blushed and ducked his head a little, not that he had any space to move.

“Yeah, that was--” his voice cracked and he hastily coughed. “That was something all right.”

Rose chuckled a bit nervously and, as if it had only just occurred to her, drew up her feet and crawled out from under her pillowy comforter. Aside from her pajama shorts her legs were enticingly bare, smooth and curvy and distracting. Rosester's eyes swept over them, then at her own legs, which for some reason made her frown. John didn't know what the problem was until she slipped a few fingers under her thigh-highs, ripping them and her opera-length gloves carelessly off to the side, too impatient to bother with a strip-tease. Satisfied, she curled back up at Rose's side, hip to hip, and John felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of purple-red skin pressed close to goth-pale.

“Finished?” Rose asked with something that _surely_ couldn't be amusement in her voice. Rosester nodded vigorously, comically so, then allowed her a generous three seconds to initiate something before she gave in and pounced.

Gone was the impish teasing and melting sweetness that John recalled from his own experience in Rosester's arms. Rose fell back upon the bed under the sudden onslaught of eager, almost desperate kisses, her surprise clearly written across her face. A body pressed down upon hers, mouth against mouth, chest to chest, legs slipping and tangling around each other. Rose tried to give something back, tried to thread her fingers into pale green hair, but Rosester just batted her hands away like they were a nuisance, then decided to grab them and pin down for good measure.

Rose's reaction to that was instant. Her body went rigid, every muscle frozen in shock, before her eyes slowly rolled up into her head, eyelids fluttering closed. Her toes curled as her arms relaxed, a soft noise issuing deep from her throat. Rosester pulled her lips away and stared, slowly pulling herself up to a sitting position on top of Rose's hips, without releasing her arms. Consciously or not, Rose arched her back when she pulled away, her chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath. The silky fabric of her sleepwear did little to hide the tiny peaks on her breasts as they strained upwards, and John could feel a certain area of his own body mirroring hers. A certain area of his body that Johnster was sitting right on top of. He suddenly realized that he wasn't the only one whose body was straining mindlessly for relief, and let out a whimper.

Rose turned to look at him, flush with embarrassment as she remembered his watching eyes. Rosester turned her head as well, but she wasn't looking at _him_. She and Johnster seemed to be sharing some kind of silent communication before they smirked and nodded. In a fluid movement, she bowed her head and slid down just far enough to close her lips around one of Rose's cloth-covered nipples, at the same time as Johnster suddenly changed positions to straddle his lap, grinding his ass down against the hardness rising in John's pants. The noises the two victims made were as personally embarrassing as they were mutually arousing. Suddenly neither Rose nor John could bear to look each other in the eye, yet they couldn't exactly look _away_ , either.

Johnster nuzzled in close and tugged the neck of his shirt aside, breathing hot and moist over the skin of his collarbone. John found himself slipping down and sideways in the chair, his head falling slowly but inevitably to the upholstered armrest. He strained his chin back, maintaining his view of the ladies even if it was upside down, which incidentally left his neck completely exposed. Rose's gaze was intense as she watched Johnster lick teasingly across the expanse of skin, teeth grazing here and there in ways that made his adam's apple bob. With so many distractions striving for his attention, John almost didn't catch the sight of Rosester pulling a certain silky top up with her teeth, exposing the sharp curve of bare ribs and the tempting softness above. Rose's breathing grew visibly shallow as her Trickster started kissing and licking in circles across her chest, leaving trails and prints of lipstick behind. John whimpered at the sight, only to choke when he felt Johnster slip his hands under his own shirt and slide it up.

Fingers rubbed persistently over the little nubs on his chest, causing his mouth to fall open in silent shock. Rosester finally stopped teasing and sucked a nipple into her pursed lips, making Rose shudder all over and flush in places John had no idea a person could flush. Not to be outdone, Johnster buried his lips into the crook between John's neck and shoulder and put his sucking power to good use, even as his hips rocked relentlessly over the tent in his pants. The noise he received in return sounded _very_ much like he was stealing his breath away.

[](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/45225795078)

_Wow, this escalated really fast_ , was the thought that flickered weakly through the haze in John's mind. Like hell he was going to stop, though. _If this is the paradise Davester was talking about, I never want to leave!_ With great effort he managed to tear his eyes away from his real-life lesbian fantasy just long enough to glance around for the third Trickster, but he couldn't spot him anywhere. He seemed to have vanished from the room unnoticed, not that the lack-of-noticing part was surprising. _But why would he leave when he could be watching_ this? _That whole “fairness” thing he was talking about?_

_Oh well. His loss._

His eyes returned to Rosester just in time to catch her sharing another silent exchange with her mirror-brother. The blessed pressure against his groin ceased abruptly, leaving him feeling so bereft that he finally looked Johnster in the eye for the first time since all this started. The boy was rising to his hands and knees above him, towering over his own splayed form like a shield or a cage, his presence seeming to encompass everything. John swallowed as his face loomed closer, hardly daring to breathe, inexplicably intimidated. He couldn't understand the expression he was seeing. It was almost predatory, yet it also felt caring. Somehow condescending and worshipful, all at the same time.

_I don't really know this person._

The thought felt like both common sense and a revelation. _He has my face, my body, and yet I have no idea what's in his head._ They stared at each other, unblinking, suspended.

_What are you thinking?_

Johnster smiled slowly, just the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth, before he closed the distance between their lips. To John's surprise, he felt as if something was pouring into him, something smooth and nourishing and as intangible as air. It warmed him from head to toe and everywhere in between, sweet as candy and dulcet as music, a vibration as gentle as a cat's purr. His bones _ached_ for want of it, and he found himself gasping into the kiss, mouth open wide to devour more.

“Like that, do you?” Johnster whispered as he pulled away for the most agonizing of moments, shifting his weight and sliding a hand down to the fastenings of their pants. John was aware, as he felt the constricting pressure release, as cool air came to stir against the raging heat of his hard-on, that this was something he ought to be freaking out over, or at least a bit more apprehensive about, but he just _couldn't care._ Not even when he felt an identical hardness press against his own, felt the softness of bare flesh and the tickle of wiry hair. A surge of arousal pulsed through his veins, and this time when their lips crashed together the energy that poured in was burning hot, crackling and tumultuous.

The cry that ripped through John's throat sounded like a wild animal, savage and guttural and desperate. He wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders above him and yanked them close, digging his fingers in unnecessarily hard as he rutted their dicks against each other. A voice very much like his own thoughts, yet not his own, screamed through his mind, crying: _Oh fuck, yes, use your nails, John, tear me open, rip me to pieces and I will adore you forever, please please please!!_ And the moment he felt the desire he wanted to act on it, so he tore the Trickster's shirt out of the way and clawed his nubby fingernails over the skin of his back, leaving pink and red streaks behind in their wake. Johnster's shriek poured down into his throat with a fresh blast of lust, and John could almost swear he could feel the pain he had just inflicted, could feel the way it affected his partner, the way it unhinged his mind and set him free as the wind. John felt like a tornado was clawing in through his mouth and forcing every last inch of itself inside, filling him to bursting and having its way with his innards. It was fucking him from the inside out and violating him in the best way possible, its blazing trail building up and just waiting to touch down at the molten core of his arousal, his desperately swelling balls and weeping erection.

 _I'm going to explode!_ he screamed in his head, and thought for sure it would be literal, would be the death of him. He could feel Johnster inside his head, reading his thoughts, could sense the rush of elation and victory he felt. He broke the kiss and pulled away, taking John's flushed, trembling dick in hand and pumping it with wicked delight, a manic, hungry gleam in his eyes.

There was no power in the world that could have saved him at that point. Pleasure overwhelmed his mind, overwhelmed his body, sent him tumbling and careening out of control. He bucked with abandon into Johnster's hands, squirting come and so much more into the air. Whatever it was Johnster had filled him with—sexual energy or the Breeze or his very soul—he could _feel_ the Trickster absorbing it back now through every throbbing pulse of his orgasm. He could tell that the power was even greater now, multiplied through the sharing, and now it was Johnster who looked fit to burst, his disheveled hair tossing in a miniature cyclone that roared around them.

There was light flashing against the ceiling and walls like a strobe, and when he turned to look, he saw Rose gripping her blankets tightly, thrashing and clenching upon the bed, glowing intensely from within with a lime-green florescence. She had lost her shorts at some point, and Rosester her dress, so that deeply-hued breasts dangled and brushed over bare, fair skin. The Trickster's hand was doing something between Rose's legs that was turning her into a quivering mass, and as she cursed and gasped, the flickering glow under her skin was being greedily reintegrated into Rosester's giddy-pastel aura. It was burning brighter and brighter by the second, sparking and flickering intensely like a welding torch.

There was a change in the pitch of the wind, and John found his attention captured again by the boy in his lap. He could feel _his_ orgasm coming, even without touch; could feel the pleasure spiraling to its highest point in his mind as surely as he could feel his own satiated contentment. There was joyful relief, too, a feeling of security as terrible uncertainty was finally overcome.

 _Thank you! Now I'm safe. Now_ we're _safe. Now we can play forever!_

John wondered what that meant, but then Johnster was coming all over him, his dick bobbing above the splayed opening of his short little shorts. There was a terrible fatigue stealing over him, yet he was still struck with the urge to do more. They had barely started!

Johnster flopped over him, face into his neck, ass in the air. John ran his hands up bare legs and teased the curve of skin those shorts couldn't possibly conceal. It wriggled teasingly in his hands.

“Insatiable, aren't we?” he giggled, and it was true. With an entirely-too-energetic bounce, he propped himself up again and stared at him with lust in his eyes. When he kissed him, John felt his tiredness wash away, felt a dose of energy like he'd been shot full of caffeine.

“Thanks,” he said as he licked his lips.

“It's yours, after all,” Johnster replied with a smirk, eyes drooping as he nipped at his lips. “Now make me more.”

“Or you could share,” came a sultry voice from the bed. The two boys turned to see the girls splayed out over each other, cuddling in the post-coital glow/pre-coital burn much like they were. They still looked upside down to John, but their come-hither looks were unmistakable.

“Isn't that chair uncomfortable?” Rosester asked, eyes wide with sweet concern.

“I'm certain it is,” Rose stated smoothly.

“You think there's room on the bed for them, too?”

“Oh, I'm sure anything's possible with enough creativity.” Her eyebrow quirked suggestively.

John and Johnster exchanged a brief, eager glance before they scrambled over onto hazy clouds of lavender blankets, shucking soiled shirts and pants as they went. The Tricksters gave each other a high-five, while John slid giddily into Rose's arms. He felt like he'd been waiting for this moment forever, a moment he never truly thought would come.

Why hadn't they ever done this before, anyway? He thought there must have been reasons, but he couldn't remember what they were. He didn't feel too bad, though, because obviously Rose didn't remember what they were, either.

Really, who needed _thinking_ when there were four in a bed and clothes on the floor?

* * *


	8. Kill Me

“Oh, there you are, Dave! I've been looking all over for you.”

The boy in question looked up in surprise, then hunched his shoulders and looked away again. Terezi closed the door of the room she had just finished checking and turned to face the newcomer, hands on her hips as she sniffed.

“Pistachio and sprinkles... must be Davester. Come to join the search party?”

Davester cocked his head in puzzlement. “Uh. No? I just found who I was looking for... why, are you looking for someone too?”

She frowned. “I guess you haven't heard, then.”

“Heard what?”

With an irritated _tsk_ , she explained about Sollux's death and Kanaya's disappearance as she checked a few more doors. The story was no easier to convey the third time around, even though her words were getting more clipped and detached with each retelling. She didn't much care for picking up the useless task of checking room by room, either, but she had only just convinced Dave to come out of hiding, and she didn't know what else to do while he trailed sluggishly behind her.

“Wow,” Davester muttered as she finished updating him to the situation. “I mean, I don't really know Kanaya, but still! She seemed so nice to me when I ran into her earlier.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I dunno. Maybe half an hour ago?”

Terezi went rigid. “Where did you see her?”

“Just in a random stretch of hallways...”

“ _Which ones?_ ” she hissed, whipping out her cane and gripping it tightly.

“I-I don't know! They had streaks of paint on the walls?”

She sucked in a breath. “Gamzee's block.” The cane flexed under her hands, her knuckles white. The muscles in her jaw twitched as she ground her teeth in thought, before raising her head and barking out an order. “Let's go.”

“Is that wise if she's dangerous? With just the three of us? I'm not really much of a fighter--”

“Well _we_ are. Let's _go!_ ”

Davester glanced at Dave, who just shrugged and fell in step behind them both. Eager to have a clue, apprehensive of what they might find, and terrified that they were already too late, Terezi ran to the nearest transportalizer pad and navigated them quickly through the hub to the one with Gamzee's symbol. Dave finally quickened his steps and took a position beside her, still looking under the weather but obviously glad for the distraction of action. The corridors flashed by, their bland metal walls livened up by splashes of rainbow colors (paint, not troll blood) and what looked like dried up sopor. Davester piped up briefly to point out where he claimed to have run into Kanaya, and Terezi felt her stomach clench. It was on the direct path to Gamzee's room.

They didn't run into her, not that she really expected them to, not when the trail was at least half an hour cold. Still, she slowed down before they reached their final target, motioned for them to walk silently as they approached Gamzee's door. There was still a slight chance she was there. Either way, if she had truly gone in, then things looked bad. Terezi could only foresee six possible outcomes.

1\. Kanaya had nothing to do with Sollux's death, and nothing happened.  
2\. Kanaya _was_ responsible, but she did nothing to Gamzee, and he didn't notice anything was wrong.  
3\. Kanaya attacked Gamzee and killed him.  
4\. Kanaya attacked Gamzee, and he killed her for it.  
5\. Kanaya attacked Gamzee, he survived, and she was forced to flee.  
6\. Gamzee joined her side.

She really hoped it wasn't that last one, because if that was what was waiting for them beyond that door... she wasn't sure the three of them would survive.

Bloodpusher pounding dangerously loud in her auricular receivers, she reached out with her cane and gave the door-open button a try, on the off chance that it wasn't locked.

It wasn't.

With a whooshing sound, Terezi's senses were suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of grape jelly. There was purple everywhere. It splattered the walls of the clown-troll's quarters. It pooled stickily on the floor next to a pile of bicycle horns. It flecked in a spot or two on the ceiling. And in the middle of it all, crumpled on the floor and very obviously dead... was the body of one Gamzee Makara.

Terezi made a high-pitched sort of noise as she absorbed the scene. Kanaya was nowhere to be seen, of course, probably long gone. From behind her, Davester gasped and covered his mouth in shock, while Dave didn't seem to react at all, at least at first. Then his breath started to come fast and loud. Faint tremors in his arms grew more violent, until his entire body was shaking hard enough he looked like he was having a seizure.

“Fuck,” Terezi hissed as realization hit her. “ _Blood._ ”

Dave had already been in an unstable state; add to that _this scene_ and his phobia was probably hitting critical. She spun around, alarmed, but Davester was obviously quick on the uptake and was already springing into action. One hand pushed Dave's shades up so it could cover his eyes, while the other wraped around him tightly from behind. The overloading boy seemed to collapse backwards into the others' strong embrace, all awareness shutting down as he went catatonic. Davester staggered briefly under the weight, then began shuffling backwards, half dragging him away from the gruesome sight.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/46358806745)

“Get him _out of here!_ ” Terezi shouted for good measure, her normally gray face pale with worry. She wanted nothing more than to lock her moirail away in a quiet room and shoosh him until this whole daymare of a night was just a faded memory, but there was a killer on the loose and their circle of friends, their _everyone_ , was growing smaller by the hour. She didn't have time to spare for this. Everyone was scattered and disorganized, and while she could hope that Karkat and Jade were making headway, were taking charge and figuring things out, she didn't _know_. But here was a crime scene, and if there was one thing she could do that might help in this dismal situation, it was analyze it for clues and learn what she could.

She spared one last glance at Dave as he stumbled away. Davester was already practically shooshing and papping him, and while the sight of it filled her with jealousy, it was somehow comforting at the same time. If nothing else, it made her feel a little better about ignoring one set of duties in order to focus on another.

It looked like she was leaving her moirail in good hands, at least.

* * *

Dave's senses were returning to him slowly, one by one. He first noticed the hum of a soothing, tuneless rhythm in his ear, a sort of white noise that filled the terrible silence. Someone was holding him securely but gently, a strong, warm presence at his back. Their hands were rubbing up and down his arms, their chin lightly resting on his shoulder. The two of them were sitting, he realized, propped up against the wall of some nameless gray room, the lights on their lowest setting. In the haze of his mind, he thought at first that the one holding him was Bro. It made him want to cry for some reason, which was silly, because he hadn't even cried at Bro's death.

_Oh yeah. Bro's gone. Then it can't be him holding me, can it._

_So who's there?_

He stirred, and the humming stopped. When he turned his head he caught the visage of none other than his candy-brained Trickster, staring at him with naked, concerned eyes.

“Hey. You still with me?”

Dave thought about that. It was a complex question, after all. _With_ had a lot of meanings. _With_ as in “in the presence of?” The answer to that seemed fairly obvious. _With_ as in dating? Aw, hell no, he was not yet so narcissistic as to enter a relationship with his own copy. _With_ as in “in a conscious state?” Okay, given the circumstances, that seemed like the intended meaning. But was it true? His eyes were open and his brain was running commentary, but that didn't mean he was ready to dribble the ball down the pitch and deliver a home run anytime soon.

Davester apparently took his silence as an answer and resumed humming. Dave grunted and shifted, trying to pull away so he could stand up or something, prove that he was fine and didn't need to be babied. He was merely shooshed for his efforts and held more tightly until he stopped squirming.

“Easy, now. You scared me half to death! Humor me and let me take care of you a little longer... please?”

Well. That was hard to argue with. With only mild reluctance, he relaxed back against Davester's chest again and let out a small sigh. _I suppose if it's just for his own peace of mind, I can endure being coddled at least a little longer._ The moment anyone else showed up, though, he was bolting to a respectable distance.

One of the hands rubbing his arms shifted up to stroke his hair instead. Dave tensed at first, but it felt surprisingly good. He didn't usually let anyone touch his carefully styled hair, but it was probably already a mess, so there wasn't much point in worrying about it. And damn, but those fingers working at his scalp were magic. Of course they were, they were copied off the best, after all. His eyes drifted shut as his body relaxed. He could get used to this.

“That's it,” Davester murmured against his neck. “You always seem so on-edge. Doesn't anyone ever help you relax?”

“Not really my... thing...” he slurred in response. Davester's huff felt like a gust of warmth on his skin, and for a second there he thought he felt the softest of kisses below his ear.

“Are you serious? You are _wound_ like a spring! No wonder you had such a bad reaction. It's not even your fault! How can your friends leave you in this state all the time?”

“It's not their fault either, they try. Terezi's got this plushie pile she coaxes me onto every now and then, and Rose helps talk me through stuff when I need it.”

“But no one does _this_ for you?” he asked, the arm still wrapped around him giving the briefest of hugs.

“I'm not a touchy-feely kind of guy.”

“Is that so... or is that just what you've convinced yourself?”

Dave opened his mouth to deny it, but suddenly found that he wasn't sure. He _was_ enjoying this. To a surprising degree, even. He hadn't thought himself even capable of that.

Of course, he hadn't thought he was capable of what he did to Johnster, either.

All the tension returned at once, a despairing noise tearing through his throat as he recoiled from the memories. Davester held him tight as he thrashed, panic pulsing through him in waves. _What did I do how could I do that I was a beast and a monster I hurt him I hurt him and it felt so good to hurt him and he screamed and screamed and thanked me for being--_

“Dave! Dave, no, calm down, it's okay, it's okay, I've got you, everything's going to be okay, listen to me, _listen to me_ , hey, easy, easy, shhhh... here, here Dave, feel this, just focus and feel and don't think about it, okay? Feel and listen and relax, it's okay, shhhhhhhh...”

Though still twitching with aftershocks, Dave seemed to be following his advice, because he stopped fighting against him and went rigid. His breath was still coming too fast and eyes were white-rimmed behind his shades, but with great effort they seemed to focus on the present again. Davester continued doing what it was that seemed to get through to him—namely, letting his lips brush against the ear he was speaking softly into, allowing his hands to run firmly and insistently over his chest and shoulders. Dave watched him from the corner of his eye like a wary animal, but he was slowly softening from the stone-solid tension of before.

“Oh, Dave,” the whispering voice continued, and it sounded a little heartbroken. “I wish I could just wrap you up and make all your problems go away. I wish you would at least let me try. I wish there was even the slightest thing I could _do!_ ” The voice choked, sounding hopelessly frustrated, before falling silent. Now the feeling of lips pressing at the corner of his jaw was unmistakable. The hands roaming across his chest slowed their pace, but didn't stop.

“What are you doin'?” Dave asked cautiously, his voice scratchy.

Davester didn't answer right away. Featherlight kisses brushed over his earlobe, trailed down his neck to the back of his shoulders. Fingers worked under his shirt and pressed hesitantly against his skin before resuming their soothing motions. “The only thing I know how to do,” he confessed meekly. “The only thing I'm good at.”

“I doubt that's true,” Dave replied automatically, but couldn't follow up with anything. _In any case, I should stop this,_ he thought guiltily, not wanting to take advantage of the guy's worry, but his treacherous body didn't lift a finger. It didn't want to stop this at all. It wanted to be touched, _so fucking much._ No one was watching. There were no pretenses to keep up. And hell, if he couldn't be honest with himself, who else could he be honest with?

So when Davester let his hands roam freely over his torso, warm and determined and relaxing, he didn't say anything. Fingers kneaded gently into the soft flesh of his stomach, pressed more firmly along the lines of his ribs, stroked soothingly along the trail of blond hair across his navel. Nails paused to scratch lightly over any bumps or scars they came across. His nipples were idly toyed with, and though his weren't particularly sensitive, Dave found it pleasant all the same. His collarbone was traced with curious interest for a while, before the line of touch moved up to massage his shoulders. By this point his shirt was becoming a hindrance, and he was all too willing to lean forward a bit so Davester could slip it off of him.

And since he was leaning forward now, it was natural for the hands to choose his back as their next target, gliding down the lean expanse before focusing on the bony curve of his spine, or the sharp projections of his shoulder-blades. Dave felt like he was melting, he _never_ relaxed this much—and it would have been terrifying if it weren't for the fact that his mind felt _so tired_. Too taxed by... things he wasn't going to think about again, too exhausted to dredge up new worries. He just wanted to set himself adrift on this sea of sensation and let himself be carried away by the waves.

So when Davester crawled around to face him, began kissing him tenderly on the lips and stroking his cheeks, he still didn't say anything. He _thought_ something, thought he was probably going to regret this later, but he made no move to stop it. There was no such thing as affection that didn't come with guilt, didn't come with heavy feelings that weighed down his heart. At least, not in his experience. So he closed his eyes, and he shut out the past and the future, and he kissed back.

It was the strangest thing, but there was something very steadying, very rock-solid and _present_ about Davester. He'd thought from the beginning that his Trickster was nothing like him, was more of a mirror-opposite than a mirror-copy, but this was the first time that it seemed like a virtue. They both cared deeply for their friends, but where Dave was self-conscious and terrified of letting them down, Davester was selflessly devoted. It should have made him feel inadequate, but right now, it was comforting. Dave was his own worst enemy, but this person... this person, he could let his guard down for. This person he could _trust_ , even when he didn't trust himself.

Dave didn't even remember wrapping his arms around him, but he was clinging to him now, his anchor in the vast ocean. Davester gently lowered him to the floor, where his missing shirt was already laid out to block the chill of cold metal. He settled down carefully on top of him, like a mother hen over her chicks, and nudged Dave's shades up to sit on top of his head, like his own. Pink eyes stared lovingly into red.

“You can fall apart a hundred times, Dave—a thousand times, a million—without fear. Because I'll be there; a hundred times, a thousand, a million, to put you back together again.”

Dave thought he could see sincerity in those eyes, and knew he was lost.

Compassionate kisses grew more passionate. Soothing touches turned sensual. What started out relaxing was now riling him up, making his pulse race and his skin begin to sweat. There was a cavernous pit in Dave's heart, the one that always cried out for his friends' love, for his Bro's approval, for his sister's attention, for his best friend's affection, and now it was growling for everything Davester had to give and more. Anything to fill that void.

And Davester was more than willing to give.

Fire seemed to fill him through their locked lips, seared a burning path inside him on its way down. If Dave's heart had a bottomless pit, then Davester was filling it with the eternity, with infinity, with _time_ itself. He could see the past; his long conversations with his friends, their time in the game, the misery of losing and fleeing to stagnant safety. He could see the future; eight humans in an empty world, entangled in passion and violence until the end. But they both paled in comparison to the present, where time seemed to freeze and hold the moment in place forever. He burned with desire that never ended, grasped tightly at the body above him and wished desperately they were one.

But Davester sat up, removed Dave's arms from his shoulders and kissed his fingertips before turning around, and he would have complained if it weren't for the fact that his pants were now being unfastened. He bucked his hips, let the cloth be pulled away, let himself be stripped naked. The cold floor warmed quickly under his burning skin, especially once those devilish hands began to give his hips and inner thighs the attention his upper body had been enjoying before. He spread his legs in eager anticipation, breathing heavily. The trail of touch didn't tease long before sliding over his balls, petting and tugging and cupping them with one hand. Dave swallowed and flexed his fingers uselessly over the floor, wishing for something he could sink them into. As if sensing his need, the Trickster swung a leg over until he was straddling his chest, backwards, and Dave ran his hands up and down his bare thighs.

 _Dude, we were never meant to wear shorts like those,_ Dave thought with a dark laugh. _But since you already are..._

It didn't take much work to slip his fingers under the layers of fabric and pull everything free. If Davester was surprised to find himself suddenly performing a dickslip, he didn't show it. Faintly irritated at the lack of response, Dave decided to up the ante. Sliding further beneath him, he lifted his head and ran his tongue slowly over the low-hanging fruit. The startled gasp _that_ earned was gratifying.

“ _Jeeze,_ ” Davester whispered, just a little shakily, “this was supposed to be for _you_ , you know.”

“Well, you of all people ought to know better: you want to take my mind off something? Give me something to _do._ ” He swiped his tongue wetly over the soft flesh a few more times, encouraged him to widen his stance. He relished the way it made his breath stutter, made his devil-hands less steady. “Also: 'Jeeze?' _Obviously_ I'm not trying hard enough.” Gripping a thigh with one hand to keep him still, Dave pressed his lips wide against his balls and gently sucked one into the warmth of his mouth.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Davester barked, and _that_ was more of the reaction he was looking for. The Trickster's hips trembled against him, his arms shaking until he lowered himself to his elbows. A gust of moist air was the only warning Dave had before he felt a wet tongue working his own sack over, and now he was moaning even with his mouth full, and that had to feel _pretty damn good._ Davester was moaning too, slurping at him frantically like he was a scoop of ice cream threatening to melt. And maybe he _was_ , because Dave was sweating and shaking and burning under his skin.

When the strain on his neck became too great to hold that position any longer, he let his hostage slip away and fell back against the floor. Davester whined in spite of himself, which earned him a grin. “Come on, man, I know how flexible we are. Put those hips to work!”

“Whatever you say, Teacup,” he chuckled back, and Dave would have flipped him off on principle if his hands weren't busy guiding those hips into position. Davester didn't leave him with his irritation for long, though, because as soon as he dipped himself back into Dave's mouth, he returned the favor with his own.

 _Oh sweet yes fucking hell, this is more like it!_ He would have cursed aloud but his mouth was busy being stuffed full, drool running down the corners of his lips and tickling his neck. He sucked and was sucked on and couldn't really stop himself from bucking his hips in helpless delight. He could feel moisture oozing from the tip of his cock, which bobbed and strained upwards, begging to be touched. He reached up and took Davester's in hand, twisting his hands over the loose skin and smearing precome across its length. The boy released him with a gasp, panting loudly before bowing his head to lick a stripe down his dick. For a second there Dave feared he was going to suffocate, but he breathed hard through his nose and soldiered on, and was rewarded by Davester's relentless tongue.

 _Oh god I can't take much more of this!_ Time seemed to freeze in agonizing bliss, the balls in his mouth swelling with heat, the hands gripping his own and the slavering attention on his dick more pleasure than he could handle. The seconds lingered like hours; cruelly, teasingly, heavenly, stretching him out until he was afraid he would beg for release. But Davester swooped in like a Valkyrie to carry him away, slipping his cock in his mouth and taking the whole of him down to his base, a little trick Dave was certain _he_ didn't know how to do.

Time moved again, abruptly, and he thrust into Davester's mouth and fired come down his throat. He drank it down greedily like his life depended on it, sucked and swallowed for far longer than Dave thought he needed to, until he felt like he was being drained of everything. His sense of time grew hazy, his mind clouded as pleasure encompassed all his senses, all his thoughts and desires. Davester felt like an oven in his hands, and when the boy encouraged him to let go, to swallow his dick instead, Dave blissfully complied.

Hot liquid splashed across his tongue and without thought he swallowed it down. Life was coming back to him, replenishing his spirit. He felt better than he'd felt in as long as he could remember. He felt eager and powerful, like he could throw someone down and tear them apart without falling apart himself. He had an itch. He was restless and raring to attack.

When Davester finally pulled out and turned around, grinning madly, Dave couldn't help it. He mashed their lips together, pulling his hair back and thrusting in his tongue. Davester laughed into his mouth, pulling away regretfully only after he'd had a good taste.

“Come on, let's get out of here,” he said happily as he gathered their clothes and pulled them both to their feet. “I bet I know some friends of yours who will be _very_ glad to see you.”

Dave looked at him questioningly, almost afraid to hope. “Who?”

“Your dreamy, devoted sister. And a certain boisterous best bro.”

Dave felt his mouth go dry and licked his lips, heart pounding in his chest. “Well then, let's not keep them waiting!”

* * *

Terezi crossed her arms and frowned. She had been over the macabre crime scene with every trick she knew; dusting for prints, measuring blood splatters, blocking out the victim's steps and trying to recreate the scene in her mind, but in the end all she had were guesses. Rather unsatisfying and unlikely guesses.

The most obvious clue in the room was Gamzee's weapon. The deliciously colorful hammer was still clutched tightly in his cold fingers, its head matted with dark hair, little fleshy bits that were almost certainly think-pan matter, and purple blood that had already turned dark and crusty. While it might be possible for Gamzee to strike the back of his own head, he couldn't have done it with the amount of force obviously used for the killing blow. But how could his killer have wrested the weapon away from him? And why would they have put it back in his hands when it was obvious he didn't do it? And how could they have made him grip the handle like that once he was dead, anyway?

Why was the crate containing Gamzee's old horn collection open? She had almost had a heart attack when she accidentally stepped on one. Had Kanaya hoped to awaken his old insanity with their sounds? Was this truly a case of her seeking out an ally, only to have things go south?

The room was suspiciously clean of clues regarding the second party. No hairs or torn scraps of cloth or drips of blood to finger the culprit, even though they had apparently fought. There were crushed horns littering the floor, Gamzee had a few tears in his pant-legs around his ankles, and his face was still twisted into an impressively frightening snarl. But his attacker had been almost miraculously thorough in cleaning up the scene.

Assuming it was Kanaya on some kind of rainbow-drinker rampage, could she have done it? Her gloves, torn though they evidently were, could have prevented her from leaving any fingerprints. Had she awakened her latent thrall abilities and been attacking him mentally? That didn't explain the torn cloth, but... perhaps he'd been thrashing about and trampling his horns underfoot as he fought off the mind-control. Perhaps he'd chosen to take his own life rather than fall again, and a surge of adrenaline helped him strike himself down...

Terezi bowed her head in grief. If that was the case, it was just too tragic! Yet even though it made some sense, it still seemed unlikely. To get enough force, it would have made far more sense for Gamzee to strike at his face or the _top_ of his head, not the back. And even more damningly, a person's arm could only pull back so far; with his grip that low, the length of the weapon would have ensured he struck, not with its head, but with the _handle._

_So how, how, HOW did he do it? It's not like space conveniently bent itself around for him!_

And then Terezi's mouth gaped open, because Kanaya had been the Sylph of Space.

_But—she never had that kind of power before! Why would unlocking rainbow-drinker abilities have any influence over Sgrub-granted mechanics? Kanaya never went god-tier, there's no way... unless. Unless she alchemized a device, like Aradia and Dave used to use. Something that would give her more control over space..._

It might not turn out to be an answer, but it was an alternative to explore. Gripping her cane tightly, Terezi stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. Dave was long gone, hopefully on a path to recovery. No matter, she had work to do, a mission of pressing importance.

It was time to examine the Alchemiter. If Kanaya really created such a device, the evidence would still be in its history. Besides, if nothing else, it wouldn't hurt to retrace Sollux's steps, and that was his last known location while still alive.

* * *

Jade and Karkat had searched the secret passageway, and the rooms at both ends, and the surrounding rooms, and another secret passageway besides, but had found nothing and no one. If the lack of progress was frustrating, it was made a thousand times more awkward by the heavy silence between them.

“Aaaarg!” Jade screamed as she followed Karkat out of another hidden door into yet another empty room. “This is getting us nowhere fast! I don't think we're going to find Gamzee or Kanaya or _anyone_ else this way.” She slumped against the wall and slid down, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I guess we need a new plan.”

“At least yours was better than mine,” Karkat said as he joined her on the floor, a safe distance away. “At least you seemed like you knew what you were doing.”

She made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. “Where to next?”

“I guess check the more obvious places? Maybe someone's in the computer room after all, even if they're not online. Same for their respiteblocks. Maybe they're sleeping.”

“What, all of them?”

“I don't know! Let's not rule it out, at least!”

“All right, no need to shout,” she muttered, picking at the fabric of her dress over her knees. Karkat abruptly looked away, feeling guilty.

“About... about earlier. Sorry.” When she made no reaction, he tried again. “You know I can't keep it on the handle at the best of times, and this is anything but. You were trying to reach out, and I slapped you away. I just... I'm _really_ sorry!” Very cautiously, like he was approaching a wounded animal, Karkat scooted closer to her side. “You can try again, you know, if you even still want to. If you don't hate me now.”

She gave a little huff and closed her eyes. “I don't hate you, Karkat.”

“Good! Good. That's good.” He came to a stop a mere handswidth away and settled back against the wall. “Are we... still friends?”

Her head suddenly dropped to her knees, shoulders shaking, and Karkat feared for the worst before he realized she was trying to hold in laughter. When she looked up again her face was flushed with mirth. “Honestly, Karkat, how could anyone _not_ be friends with you? You are so freaking adorable, stop worrying so much!”

He gaped for a moment before turning away, flushing as well. “It's _adorabloodthirsty._ Get it right.”

She snorted and giggled, finally leaning back and curling her legs to the side with her hands in her lap. “So, do you mean it? You won't flip out this time?”

“If I do, feel free to slap me upside the head.”

“Hee! Will do. I'll try not to flip out either.” She smiled at him briefly before letting her eyes roam up and down his body, her expression fading and growing more confused by the second. At last she frowned.

“What?” he asked, just a touch nervously.

“I don't know what to do. How do friends normally touch?”

“Just... casual... uh.” He probably wasn't the best person to ask about that, actually. “Since we're sitting side by side, I guess we could lean against each other?”

“Oh. So... like this?” She shifted closer until their shoulders were pressed together. The warmth of her bare skin seeped right through his sleeve.

“Yeah, that's good.” Karkat sat very still and tried not to feel so nervous. Here Jade was trying to finally make some progress with her issues, and he'd already botched up once. _Don't do anything stupid. Don't flinch, don't jump. Don't be so stiff. Don't blush. Don't sweat._

“This doesn't seem so bad,” she said after a moment, turning her head to look at his face. Karkat ran the litany over again in his head at double speed, staring straight ahead. _Okay maybe the leaning thing wasn't such a good idea, she is_ really _close._ “...huh.”

“What?” he asked as neutrally as possible.

“I never realized trolls have such thick strands of hair. They look like wires.” She was silent for an ominously long moment, and Karkat was afraid she'd ask if she could touch them. He braced himself when she opened her mouth. “They don't... conduct electricity, do they?”

He couldn't help it. He snorted with laughter. It must have been infectious, because a moment later he could feel vibrations as her own chuckles shook her sides.

“ _What?_ ” she asked, pretending to be indignant even as she nudged him playfully.

“How alien do you think we _are?_ ” he replied, trying and failing to sound offended.

“ _So_ alien, Karkat, you don't even know. Despite the fact that we have lived amongst you for—what, years maybe?—I still secretly fear that one day you will all hop into saucer-shaped space ships and perform fly-by hazings.”

“I still can't believe that's a thing you humans thought aliens did.”

“I know, right? It seems so silly in retrospect. If trollkind really did reach earth, they'd probably just try to conquer it, and we'd try to fight back, and then everyone would be dead.”

“If you say so, Jade,” he replied soothingly, not wanting to start an argument about how humans would be pitifully outmatched. “Any other weird questions you want to get out of the way?”

“Do you guys fight with your horns?”

“Have you ever _seen_ us literally butt heads?”

“No... but maybe you just haven't been that mad?”

“When am I _not_ that mad? But anyway, no matter how furious, fighting with your horns is scandalously risky. Do you know how shameful it would be to have a broken horn?” He felt a fleeting moment's remorse for Equius, then shook it off. “I mean, our horns are part of our image, our _vanity_ , even if we aren't the type to live long enough for them to reach a truly impressive size.”

“Does size matter?”

“Well, it kind of—hey wait a minute...”

“Pfffft!” The look on Jade's face was mischievous as she wiped away tears of laughter. “You walked right into that one!” He pursed his lips and glared at her, which only made her laugh harder.

“You've been hanging around Dave too much.”

“Oh gosh, that would be way too embarrassing to pick up from him! I got it from Rose, actually.” Karkat made a face like he didn't want to imagine it, earning himself a fresh round of giggles before Jade tried to get things under control. Feeling emboldened by good humor, she lifted her hand and placed it carefully on top of his. Karkat blinked and stared at it, but didn't pull away.

“So, did anyone ever tease you? For having such little horns?”

He rolled his eyes. “Mostly Terezi. She seems _entirely_ too charmed by their lack of sharp points, so much so that she rubs her thumbs over them any time no one's looking.”

Jade gasped dramatically and put her other hand over her mouth. “Should you be telling me this? It sounds dirty...”

Karkat's face turned red. “ _It is not!_ They're just horns, they're right there on the top of my head!”

“Is that so,” she responded curiously, her bright eyes wandering upward. “Does that mean _I_ could touch them?”

“You—wh—t—bu—huh?”

“I mean... you said it wasn't dirty... is it still bad? Was that a bad thing to ask for?”

“I—guess not...”

Her eyes dropped back down to look intensely into his. “Are you sure? You don't sound sure.”

He swallowed. “No, no, it's fine. You can touch them if you want, it's not like I can feel anything from just that.”

“What sort of things can you feel with them?”

“Pain, if we're putting too much pressure on them. Itchiness when they're growing.”

“Aw. Nothing that feels nice?”

“Not really, sorry.”

She looked disappointed at that, but no less curious. Hesitantly, she turned toward him and raised her free hand, reaching up slowly just in case he changed his mind. When he made no move to draw away, she placed her fingers delicately over the protruding nub, feeling its textured surface and tapping against it with her nails. Karkat watched her studious face with equal fascination, and tried hard not to think about inappropriate things.

He hadn't been lying about not being able to feel anything in his horns, or about the lack of any dirty associations with the action. But what he hadn't mentioned was how rarely he let anyone do it, because of his own self-consciousness, and how that alone made it an unusually intimate act. If it was anyone else he would have brushed them off, but Jade was trying so hard, and he... well. It was Jade. He wasn't going to say no.

And now she had one hand upon his and one hand on his head, and was leaning in so close with parted lips, and he was absolutely frozen. He felt a twinge of guilt and tried not to let his mind wander, tried to remember that his red quadrant was taken and that Terezi wouldn't fit in any other because he _loved_ her, but even so...

Here was _Jade._ And she was growing bored with his nubby horns and trying out his hair now, just like he feared she would, and her hands were gentle and tender and curious and _that_ he could feel. He swallowed and felt his eyes falling shut, simultaneously calmed and excited by her attentions.

 _At least I can flip out safely in the confines of my own head,_ he thought with wistful sadness. _Jade would never do anything more than this, and would probably be terrified to know what I'm thinking._

Or so he thought. But then he felt a press of soft, sweet lips against his own, brief but unmistakable. His eyes shot open and he stared at her in shock, taking in her rosy cheeks and bashful uncertainty.

“Sorry! It's just, your eyes were closed, and you were just so... and I wanted to try it, just once, just the once!” She pulled her hand away from his hair and clenched it above her heart, staring at the floor beside their legs in embarrassment. Her other hand, though, stayed above his, and it trembled nervously.

Karkat felt horrible, and aroused, and conflicted, and had no idea what to do.

* * *

Terezi stumbled away from the Alchemeter's control panel, her mind reeling.

“No... how could we be be so wrong? They played us for _fools!_ ”

She knew something was off the moment she started searching through the machine's history. Not only was there no record of anything resembling a space-manipulation device, but there was a... messaging program? It had all the hallmarks of Sollux's computer wizardry, yet seemed very hastily made. Puzzled, Terezi had decided to investigate further, bringing up the Trickster Mirror's code and parsing through it with difficulty. It made only vague sense to her, but... he had left notations, like little notes in the margins that confirmed if she was reading things right. And they grew more shocking the further she got. Eventually the notes stopped altogether, but Terezi kept going, brow furrowed and nose wrinkled as she sniffed intently. She wanted to stop, to make the horrible sinking feeling go away, but too many friends were already dead. She had to keep going, find out if there was some way to stop this, some way to save--

“ _No!_ ” she screeched as she sank to her knees, realization finally hitting. “I left him! I let that monster take _Dave_ and now he's—now it's certainly too late!” She shivered and drew in on herself. “Kanaya must be dead. Aradia must be dead! It's only me and Karkat left...” She paused, growing tense. “Karkat. Karkat's with _Jade._ It may not be too late for her... she seemed the same as always. Maybe... maybe!” She sprung to her feet, whipping around to face the gilded mirror that still sat in the corner, heavy and ominous. She bared her teeth and snarled as she ran towards it.

“Maybe it's not too late for Jade, which means it's not too late for _Karkat!_ ” With a roar she grabbed the top of the frame, pulled with all her weight, and jumped out of the way as it toppled over.

It hit the floor with a deafening crash, shards of broken glass exploding everywhere. Terezi winced as a few pieces zinged by, dangerously close to her face. No way was that normal. But did it _help?_

Disembodied laughter suddenly echoed through the air. “Oh, _honey,_ ” purred a sultry, familiar-yet-different voice, bouncing off the walls and impossible to pinpoint. “Nice try, but much too late. Jade was the _first_ to fall! The toughest target deserves the _best_ Trickster, and I'm the best there is!” Terezi found herself growling more gutturally than she'd ever growled before, froth threatening to spray out from between her fangs. “I've got somewhere else to be, but... good job finding your friend, there.” With that cryptic remark, the mocking laughter disappeared.

Terezi sniffed hard, still hoping to find her, but picked up another scent instead. Face going slack with shock, she treaded cautiously through the shards of glass and knelt down beside the empty frame. There was a body laying right in the middle of the gilded circle, still covered with large pieces of broken mirror. Her throat grew tight and her red eyes threatened to spill tears even before she brushed the largest piece off the corpse's face.

“Kanaya... no wonder we couldn't find you. They hid you _inside_ their stupid mirror!” With clutching hands, Terezi grabbed the stiff's shoulders and flipped her over, bowing over the limp form. Kanaya's ethereal glow was at last burnt out, her smeared lipstick crusted with blood and vomit. Her face was frozen in a grimace of pain, and Terezi felt it like a blow. “How could we have ever doubted you? You were... were too caring to pull that shit!” She sniffled and shook her head. “At least knowing you didn't turn against us will cheer Karkat...”

And then she inhaled sharply, because he might never get to hear it. “Sorry Kan, you'll have to wait like the rest of the corpses, because this is far from over!” With determination fueled by desperation, Terezi leaped to her feet and bolted into the corridor. The odds of anyone finding anyone by _sight_ in this vast labyrinth were slim, but her matesprit had gone to check out narrow, rarely used passageways—and those held smell very, very well.

* * *

“So, uh, what--” Karkat cleared his throat. “What brought on all this sudden progress overcoming your phobia, anyway?”

Jade blushed and looked away. “It's kind of embarrassing,” she confessed, unconsciously squeezing his hand. “Last night I was talking with Jadester, and she suggested I, uh. Well. We kind of... made out. A little.”

Karkat's mind was suddenly imagining two Jades kissing, and _damn it if that wasn't his secret kink._ His breath hitched in spite of himself.

“So, I was still thinking about it when I went to bed, 'cause, that's sort of a hard thing to just forget about, you know? And it must have affected my dreams, because next thing I knew I was dreaming that I was living on Earth again, on my island, running around in my dreambot. I could see my body laying in bed, asleep. I used to sleepwalk a lot, back when my dreamself was awake on Prospit. That's why I _had_ a dreambot, so I'd stop injuring my real body! I don't do it so much anymore, but I still lock my door from _inside_ at night, just in case. Don't want to go falling down all those stairs!” She laughed, wrinkling her nose cutely, then spaced out for a moment as she tried to regain her train of thought.

“Where was I... right, as a dreambot. So there was my body, passed out in bed, oblivious. And I thought about what Jadester told me, that I could work my way up to touching others by using, basically, another version of myself. So I reached out and touched my sleeping body's arm. And I could _feel it!_ I could feel my own right hand touch my own right arm, which is impossible! But I was dreaming, so it didn't seem weird at the time. Aren't dreams funny that way?”

Karkat blinked, realized she'd asked a question, and nodded hastily, unusually speechless.

“So I ran my hands over my own shoulders, played with my own hair, traced my own face... I really felt like I was in total control, so it wasn't scary! And yet, even though I could feel it, I felt like I was doing it to someone else. Someone helpless. Someone who couldn't fight back. It was kinda... fun.”

“What?” A faint alarm went off somewhere in Karkat's head.

“My clothes were gone, which isn't my normal mode of sleep, but, you know; dream logic. So I laid down on top of myself, and my robot body should have been hard and cold, but it wasn't. It was soft and heavy, just like my real body. I could feel everything twice, Karkat, like my dreambot had advanced touch sensors and my mind was conscious in both bodies. When I kissed myself, I could feel that I was invading someone else's mouth, _and_ the sensation of a stranger's tongue wandering around inside. It was bizarre.” Her eyebrows climbed up her forehead as she shook her head, and Karkat wondered if she wasn't leaning closer to him than before. His blood-pusher was stuttering in his chest and he wanted to inch slowly away, but she still had his hand pressed firmly into the floor.

“After that, it seemed only natural to test the limits of the definition of 'masturbation' for the sake of science, and she—I mean, _I_ —was already naked, so--”

“JADE!” he barked, just a touch hysterical, “Should you be telling me all this?”

Puzzled green eyes held him trapped in place. “You asked.”

He coughed. “Well, yeah, I guess I did, but I wasn't expecting to get such... _details._ ”

“They're relevant to the story, though!”

“That may be. But. Aren't they a bit--” _Don't say intimate!_ “--personal?”

For the first time, she seemed to notice how red his cheeks were getting. Her eyes dropped down to his lap. “Your pants are squirming,” she pointed out helpfully.

Karkat quickly discovered that there was no way to readjust himself without being obvious. “Sorry,” he mumbled in mortification.

He could have sworn her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Don't worry about it. So anyway. Sex. I thought to myself, I rather like making out with an unconscious body, but I don't really like it when it's _mine_. Maybe another time, a different person. And by that point I was waking up anyway, and that's when I realized that I wasn't a dreambot, I was _me,_ and the body I thought was mine had blond hair.”

“Huh?”

“ _Jadester_ , dunkass. She had been watching me, I guess, and when she noticed I was starting to sleepwalk, she made herself... available. Did you know she can use space powers? She used them to bend my own touch around on myself, which really made the dream feel real! Soooo cool.”

“She... what?! Jade, she was spying on you while you slept! That is _not_ cool!”

“Well, _I_ was molesting her in my sleep, what does that make me?”

“Buh--” He had no good answer for that. Jade smiled victoriously and definitely moved closer that time. Karkat shivered as she put a hand on his chest.

“I was already pretty excited by that point, kind of like you are now, and Jadester was encouraging me, so I just... kept going. She was _so_ patient, even though I _know_ she prefers to be in charge, too. Things got pretty wild and crazy! I had never felt so adventurous before, so brave! I wasn't _afraid,_ do you know how wonderful that felt?”

“Jade, w-what are you doing?” She was pushing on his chest now, with surprising strength, like she was trying to force him on his back. Karkat still couldn't pull his hand free, and the alarm bell in his head was starting to sound more like emergency klaxons.

“I felt so much better, I could even let her trade places! We wrestled and fought and tried out all her toys and tricks! She has so many tricks, Karkat. So many tricks.” The rapturous look in her eyes turned a bit manic, and Karkat's heart dropped into his stomach as realization hit.

“Holy... candyfucking... suckerdupes, we're all a bunch of lip-dribbling, void-brained pupas. It's the Tricksters. They're the ones who killed Sollux, aren't they? And they've done something to you, too, messed with your head! Snap out of it!”

She smiled kindly, then slammed him onto the floor with a sudden shove. Before he could scramble away, she knelt over his prone form with a knee in his gut, staring down with hazy, unfocused eyes. “What are you talking about, Karkitty?”

“Jade... Jade, listen to me. You're not yourself. Please, you need to wake up!” he pleaded. “You're my friend. I can't leave you like this. I'll find some way to break you out of this, this mind control or whatever it is!”

“Oh really,” came a new voice, from the corner of the room. “What makes you think she wants to be free?”

Karkat stiffened, his eyes rising slowly. Jadester was leaning casually against the wall, still shimmering a bit as she materialized. “Maybe,” he replied with false bravado, “because you Tricksters are _murderers_.” He glanced at Jade, desperately hoping his words would trigger some kind of emotional reaction.

 _Pity_ was not the one he was looking for. “Oh, Karkat. We were all dead anyway. Let's stop fooling ourselves, we knew deep down this had to be a doomed timeline. It was only a matter of time before _something_ killed us. And here come the minions of Death we invented ourselves, only they're offering to save _some_ of us. For as long as they can. Don't you want that for us?”

“What I _wanted,_ ” he growled, “was for us all to face the end _together_ , as friends.”

And that worked where all else had failed, because Jade finally hesitated, her focus sharpening a little as she stared at him uncertainly. Jadester made an irritated noise before sashaying over, trailing her fingers sensually across the kneeling girl's back as she passed. Her eyes abruptly glazed over, face settling into an expression of detached amusement.

“You'll still get half of your wish,” the Trickster said in a reassuring voice. “You'll be together, even if it's only _your_ end. Although, instead of as friends, it'll be—well, not lovers, exactly. More like... mistress and pet. I thought she'd like to play with you, before you go. For practice. I'm generous like that.” There was a flash of something materializing from a captchalogue, and suddenly she was holding a coiled up whip in one hand and riding crop in the other. “Here, pumpkin, try this one out.”

As the crop flew over towards Jade's reaching hand, Karkat felt a buildup of rage that spurred him to action. “Fuck. You. Bizarrobitch!” he snarled as he braced his feet on the ground. Grabbing Jade's knee with one hand and slipping the other beneath her ankle, he twisted her leg until it slipped off his gut, hitting the floor with a klunk. Startled and unbalanced, she toppled easily as he spun them both over, the crop clattering uselessly away. Leaping to his feet, Karkat backed away from them both, whipping out his razor-edged sickles. Jadester looked unimpressed.

“Planning to kill the witch and save the damsel?” she asked lightly, stretching the whip out between her hands.

“If that's what it takes.” He began edging around, trying to find an opening.

“Is it?”

“Are you trying to imply your mind control won't stop with your death?”

“I don't know, am I?” She grinned at his obvious frustration and began spinning the whip over her head and from side to side, teasing him with a few loud cracks for show.

“Only one way to find out!” He darted forward, weapons raised and eyes focused. He'd had plenty of chances to practice-strife with Aradia during their long, stagnant exile on this stupid asteroid, and she had picked up whipkind again to make things fair. He knew how to deal with whips.

It came at him suddenly, snapping so close to his head that his ears were ringing. As the tip recoiled to wrap around his throat, his sickle was already there, slicing through the leather cord and tossing it away. Before she could pull back and wind up for another lick, he was up close and personal, blades flying. With a scoff she deflected one with the whip's handle, but the other bit hard into her shoulder.

An agonized shriek of pain filled the room—but it wasn't from the Trickster.

Pulling his weapon out of flesh and spinning around, Karkat was greeted with the sight of Jade falling to her knees, clutching her shoulder where candy-red blood poured out from between her fingers.

Everything seemed deathly quiet all of a sudden. Eyes wide with shock, Karkat looked back at Jadester. The skin covering her bare shoulders was flawless, her grin wide and dark. He looked down at his sickle. It glistened with red.

“What...?” he asked weakly, staring at his weapon with horror.

“You can't save the damsel from the witch, Karkat. Because they're _one._ ” Tossing the whip aside, she strolled over to Jade's side and crouched beside her. The trembling girl looked up at her, pain etched across her face. “There, there, dear. Let me take care of that for you.” She leaned over and planted a kiss over her lips, deep and sensuous and entirely inappropriate.

Or so Karkat thought. But a moment later the flow of blood began to slow, and Jade stopped shivering. She pulled her hand away from her shoulder gingerly, and though it was hard to tell under all the sticky redness, it looked like the wound was closing up.

When their lips finally parted, Jade's eyes seemed completely glassed over. Jadester helped her to her feet until they stood side by side, mirror images in form and movement. “Come on. Let's end this, shall we?” Jade nodded with a dazed smile, and together they pulled out their matching weapons; long, scoped hunting rifles. “Well Karkat?” Jadester contintued. “Still planning to cut me down? Now's the time...”

Karkat felt all hope leave him, a familiar dreary gray leeching all the color out of the world. He lowered his head and glared sullenly at the Trickster, weapons lowered but still tightly clenched. He bared his teeth as the two of them took aim, but refused to close his eyes.

He would go down a warrior, even if he couldn't go down fighting.

So it was that he had a first-class view of what happened next: Terezi, riding a ventilation grate all the way down from the ceiling, landed with a loud clang directly behind the girls, unsheathed the blade from her cane in a razor-sharp blur, and impaled Jadester through the heart.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/46466407171)

_NO!_ was all Karkat could think. _What have you done?!_ Blood splattered everywhere, and Jade fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, eyes vacant. Jadester fell a split second later, falling off Terezi's sword and landing with a squelch. As he reeled, Terezi leaped over their fallen bodies, ran towards him, and grabbed his wrist.

“Come on!” she shouted, snapping him out of his shock as she jerked him forwards. “I have no idea how long that will keep them down, so we'd better get moving!”

“But--” he spluttered, still wide-eyed and stunned. “Jade!”

“She'll be fine,” she gasped as they stumbled jerkily towards the door. “Look! She's not the one bleeding this time, now is she?”

He looked, struggling to make his eyes focus when everything seemed so bright and blurry, and as they ran past the fallen bodies, it _did_ seem as though the streaks of blood were centered under the more garishly dressed of the two.

“But... before,” he mumbled, confused and still dragging his feet.

“Fatal wounds are different! Now _come on!_ I'll explain when we're somewhere safer, okay?”

Though he doubted they could find anywhere that would truly be safe, Karkat finally picked up the pace and fell in step at Terezi's side.

* * *

“Sex demons.”

“Yes—well, sort of.”

“Sex demons.”

“How many times are you planning on repeating that?”

“Until it stops being stupid!”

“Hey, it's Sollux's phrasing, not mine.”

“Yeah, well,” Karkat huffed. “Whatever. What do you mean by 'sort of?'”

The two of them were currently in the central ventilation control room, huddled side by side in the dark. There was no way they could hide from the Breeze, not unless they wanted to die of suffocation instead, but the control room could be set to circulate independently from the rest of the laboratory. Not an airtight plan, not an airtight room. But it was something.

“I mean, for demons, their victim pool is rather limited. They can only feed upon the four from the photo they were created from. Anyone else is useless to them.”

“So they're killing us just for that?”

“Pretty much. They don't want us getting in the way of their plans.”

“Which are?”

“Living, mostly. They're energy-beings. They convert sexual desire into energy, and that's what they run off of. They can share it, use it for healing, or to power their copied aspects from the game, even to god-tier level abilities! When they actually sleep with someone, they gain a window where they can plant suggestions or inhibit parts of their mind. All to help them achieve their final goal: sex with the one they're a copy of.”

“Why?”

“It breaks their tie to the Trickster's Mirror, links them to their twin's life instead. After that they can influence, even _command_ their thoughts at will, steal energy as needed and, as you noticed... deflect injuries, if they choose.”

“Yeah,” he said with a wince. “So what's the deal with that? You said Jade was okay, but they both went down.”

“They're unconscious. You can't kill the Tricksters that way anymore. To kill Jadester you would have to kill Jade, and obviously she doesn't want that. So instead of transferring the lethal blow, she made an emergency energy withdrawal. Knocked 'em both out, but in time the Trickster will heal.”

“Great. So the most we can do is temporarily put these bulgeleechers out of commission.”

“Pretty much.”

“And there's nothing we can do to save our friends.”

“Nope. Well... aside from, uh. Releasing them.”

“Oh.”

They sat in quiet thought for a while. Terezi sighed and leaned her head against Karkat's shoulder. “Do you even think we could?”

“Set them free?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you mean 'emotionally prepare ourselves to kill our four human friends' or 'even get past the Tricksters in the first place to do the deed?'”

She let out a soft breath of a laugh. “Either.”

“Not really.”

“...me neither.”

He sighed. “So that's it, then. We're just hiding here in a sad attempt to prolong the inevitable. We can't fight back without hurting our friends, and we can't convince them to just leave us be. Er, can we?”

“I doubt it. Getting rid of the rest of us is in their nature. Remember the negative grist we earned for alchemizing that mirror? Pyrite and Blood. And sure enough, our friends have been turned into treasured fools while the rest of us get splattered one by one. I guess we're getting exactly what we paid for.”

“Stupid John.”

“It's hardly his fault. He was just doing what he was supposed to do. I think we were all so happy to be rich again that we were far too willing to ignore the obvious warning signs.”

“Yeah, I guess.” More silence. “So.

“So.”

“What now?”

“List all the things we wished we could have done in life?”

“That's really fucking morbid.”

She cackled. In the darkness, one hand found another and twined their fingers together. “I'll never get to be a legislacerator. Of course, that was already never going to happen.”

“I'll never get to lord over a new universe like a god. Also never would have ever happened.”

“I'll never convince Sollux to start licking people as a greeting.”

“I'll never get John to stop laughing at me when I'm angry.”

“I'll never get to hold Dave's hand when he gives birth to his human children.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Oh _sorry,_ I thought we were listing impossible things.”

“Did we even have any possible things?” he asked wistfully.

They didn't say anything for a while. When the silence became too much to bear, Terezi said softly, “We could have... grown old together, at least.”

Karkat swallowed. “Bickering every step of the way.”

She chuckled. “Like those human married couples!”

He choked, then, and his throat felt painfully tight. When he turned to face her in the dark, she was already waiting for him. The touch of their lips was the most tender they'd ever had, and also the most sorrowful. When he placed a hand against her cheek, he could feel moisture there. More of it rolled down over his fingertips.

He had no idea how long they sat there, wrapped up in each other's arms, before a soft green light began to filter in under the control room door. They jumped to their feet and drew their weapons, waiting to see if it would open. They had locked it with a passcode--

But passcodes were about as effective against a Seer as hiding was. There was a muffled beeping sound, and then a whoosh as the door opened and air mixed. Rosester smiled as she rocked on her heels. “Lnbae dnb~!”

They tensed, like coiled springs wondering if they could be released. “Should we put her under and make another run for it?” Karkat whispered.

“Better not miss,” an amused voice whispered back. The two trolls jumped and spun around, but no one was there. A giggle drifted by on the wind, ruffling their hair playfully. A second figure appeared in the doorway, swinging about a heavy, double-headed hammer with ease. “Wouldn't want poor Rose to suffer all that pain if you don't strike true!”

While Karkat and Terezi exchanged uncertain glances/sniffs, the two Tricksters waltzed into the room, examining it nonchalantly as Rosester's glow lit it up. “That was pretty clever, though!” Johnster continued. “My breeze couldn't find a whiff of you, and Rosester could only see darkness in her orb of light.”

“So how _did_ you find us?” Terezi asked bitterly.

“I had the wind search for places it suddenly wasn't flowing through anymore, and Rosester tried looking into _her_ future instead of _your_ present. Guess we're pretty clever too, huh?”

Terezi cursed, and Karkat realized she'd been hoping the mistake was their own fault, something they could correct next time. If there was a next time. “So what now?”

“Now we take care of you,” said a third voice. Davester was in the doorway now, leaning casually against the frame with one foot back. “Only we 'take care of you' in the 'tying up loose ends' sort of way, not the other one.” A length of polished steel appeared in his hands as he strolled forward.

“Finally going to dirty that thing, are you?” Johnster asked in a teasing voice.

“Oh, ha, says the man with a sparkling clean hammer.”

“Hey, I've done _my_ part. And _oh_ did it feel goooood,” he moaned, stroking his fingers over his neck. “But what about you, you sure you didn't copy Dave's squeamishness, too?”

“My time will come. Besides, without me, you two would have flubbed it up with Rose and John.”

They had the sense to look abashed at that, Johnster scuffing the floor with his foot and Rosester smiling sweetly in apology. “Dnb aliddd ial del eliad nl nba diadd!”

Davester blushed and grinned. “Oh, Sissy, I can't stay mad at you!” She giggled as he bent over and rubbed his nose against hers in a sickeningly sappy display.

“Hey, what about me?” Johnster asked hopefully. Davester gave him a measuring look, then punched him in the jaw.

“Ooooooh, yesss!” the boy squealed as he stumbled. “That's more like it!” He cradled his jaw gingerly, a leer on his face.

Karkat and Terezi edged closer together and turned their attention to the door, wondering if they could make a run for it. Because of that, they were the first to notice a fourth arrival peaking in, watching the proceedings with baffled eyes.

Aradia.

Hope surged in Karkat's heart. _Of course Aradia never returned to us. If she went back and changed the timeline, she wouldn't have been able to!_

“What's going on?” she asked curiously, apparently not frightened by a room full of people with all their weapons drawn.

The three Tricksters' heads snapped in her direction, suddenly all business. “There you are! Where have you been?”

“I played time forwards so I could ask where Sollux was... but I couldn't find _anybody._ Until I caught sight of you strolling the corridors,” she said with a nod at Davester, “so I followed.”

“ _Aradia,_ ” Karkat cut in before the Tricksters could speak. “Sollux is dead! _They_ killed him!”

“And Gamzee, and Kanaya!” Terezi blurted out, taking a few steps forward. “But you can stop this! Go back and smash their Mirror before they ever came out of it!”

As Aradia gaped at them in shock, Johnster suddenly darted forward, his hammer low and ready to swing. “GO!” Karkat barked, an order.

There was a flash of red light and spinning clockwork, and then the hammer whiffed harmlessly through empty space. As Johnster stumbled and worked on getting his balance back, the two trolls smiled with dark glee.

“You're through, now,” Karkat hissed. “Do what you want with us, you festering fang-rotters, but this timeline is about to come to an _end!_ ”

“You think so?” Johnster enquired as he put his hammer away. He glanced over at Rosester and nodded his head, and with an excited bounce she cupped her hands and formed a orb of light. Davester rested his sword on his shoulder and peered over hers, watching with interest as shadows and movement began to flicker within the makeshift crystal ball.

Hope battled viciously with despair for dominance over Karkat's outlook. He wanted so desperately for things to be right again, but he was a pessimist by nature, and the Tricksters seemed entirely too calm about all this. Johnster walked over to watch the orb as well, and before long he was pointing at the things shown in its depths and issuing orders.

“She went back to _then_ from here, so she'll still have to travel by foot to get to _there_. You go pick up Jadester and carry her to _that_ spot; I'll go ahead and carry Jade back to the others. Once she wakes up, take her with you to _then_ and get the drop on little miss hero. Jadester mops up, you two pop back, and _he'll_ be none the wiser.”

“Not bad,” Davester admitted reluctantly.

“ _Sndn_ ,” Rosester huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Xd'n isnndbdldd saxddxiad!”

“Why thank you!” John said with a cheeky grin, giving her a peck on the cheek as she dissolved the orb. “Think you can keep an eye on these two while we're gone?”

“Dxlml nl ndaioslaad minl,” she giggled, stroking a finger under his chin. “Sbd mncl simn nnna, nnid?”

“Will do!” With a parting wink, the boys headed out the door, playfully shoving at each other on their way. Rosester eyed Terezi and Karkat up and down before sashaying over to one of the control room chairs, settling down into it sideways. Now that the door was closed, she was the only light in the room.

“Care to try something?” she asked smugly, unconcerned.

* * *

Aradia flew as fast as her fairy wings could take her, the corridors blurring by. She had traveled back two evenings ago, and tomorrow at breakfast, Jade would run in announcing that she'd seen her reflection in the Trickster's Looking Glass move all on its own. Or at least, that's what had happened before. All that would change, though, if she had anything to say about it.

It was late enough that the mirror would no longer be in the computer/dining room, banished instead to the corner behind the alchemiter. There was a chance John was still in there; if so, she hoped he wouldn't get in the way. It would be easier to explain later than to ask permission to destroy his masterpiece. If she even _could_ explain. All she knew was that apparently her friends were dead and doing this would save them.

Popping through the closest transportalizer, she swiftly navigated the hub and found herself in the familiar halls that lead to the alchemy room. Floating swiftly through, she touched down lightly in front of the door and lifted a hand to press the button.

Suddenly, several things happened in quick succession.

Aradia felt the familiar rippling sensation of time manipulation, but she wasn't the one doing it. It seemed to be happening right behind her.

Everything slowed down as she turned her head. In the corner of her vision, she could see a flash of red clockwork, the glint of a swinging blade, and a frighteningly manic grin.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/46467363948)

_They can time travel, too?!_ she thought.

She was too shocked to feel the bite of the sword, but her own rust-red blood seemed to spray before her eyes.

The door to the alchemy room began to open.

Time stopped.

* * *

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/11309367571)

With a start of surprise, John looked up. For a second there, he thought he'd seen... something. He wasn't even sure what, exactly, just a flash of dark red in the corner of his eye.

He looked up and down the hallway, but there was nothing there.

* * *

By the time Jadester waltzed into the ventilation control room, Karkat was finally starting to get his vision back. He and Terezi had made one grand attempt at attacking Rosester, which she had countered easily by filling the room with brilliant light. Karkat was nearly blinded, and Terezi could smell nothing but green, green, and more green. They gave up any attempts at hitting her with a single, killing blow after that.

“Welcome back!” Johnster cheered at their return.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jadester griped. “Sometimes I think you guys treat me as a glorified janitor.”

“Would it make you feel better by taking your anger out on me later?” he asked hopefully.

She eyed him, considering. “Maybe.”

Davester followed her in a moment later, sword still in hand. “Well! That was a refreshing change of pace!”

“Mmmm, yes, I _do_ love it when you stop being such a drag and _let loose._ ”

“Shall we finish up here and get back to our charming hosts? I'm pretty wiped, especially since _someone_ required a down payment before helping.”

“I got _stabbed through the chest_ , give me a break!”

“You had more energy than any of us!”

“Yeah, well, that's what happens when you never turn your swag off.”

As they bickered more-or-less playfully amongst themselves, Terezi suddenly let out strangled noise. Alarmed, Karkat moved closer to her side. “What?”

“His sword,” was all she could say. Karkat blinked and tried to get his bleary eyes to focus. It took him a second, but he finally understood what she was getting at.

It was sticky with rust-colored blood.

“That's it, then,” he whispered in a choked voice. “Aradia's dead. And so are we.”

“Yep,” Johnster chimed in loudly, startling the others out of their argument. “Any last words you want to say?”

“Not to you,” he growled.

“But what about to each other? We could pretend not to listen, if that would help.”

Karkat gave him a flat look. Sensing Terezi shifting at his side, and turned to look. Her face was drawn, her hair damp and matted to her forehead, and there were streaks of yellow, purple, and jade blood on her hands. She looked tired, full of grief, and a little obstinate, even here at the end. Karkat missed her already, and they hadn't even parted yet.

Apparently she was thinking the same thing. “I'll look for you on the other side,” she said softly. He nodded. It was the most they were willing to say in front of their murderers. The most important parts had either already been said, or didn't need to be.

One set of fingers slipped through another, and they clasped hands one last time as four menacing shadows closed in.

* * *

_Epilogue_

John woke up from a hazy dream, full of faces that seemed vaguely familiar. People with gray skin and horns that weren't actually made of candy-corn. There was something very unsettling about those dreams that made him reluctant to fall back asleep.

Of course, it could have just been the pain preventing that.

With a hiss, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. There were cuts all over his body at the moment, little gashes that left ribbons of blood running down his skin. He swiped a hand across his chest and stared at the sticky redness that painted his hand.

Rosester stirred from her own slumber and stretched luxuriously, slipping over to his side and draping her arms around him. “I see Dave is at it early today.”

“Mm-hmm,” John responded absently.

“You're such a kind friend, letting him go all-out for Johnster without his fear of blood getting in the way. I'm so proud of you.”

John couldn't remember having volunteered for that, but that was pretty normal these days. A fresh cut materialized, splitting open another patch of skin on his side, but he mostly ignored it. Rosester would heal them up in a moment. For now, he wanted to stare at his hands, and think. There was something about the sight of blood that made him feel like something was _wrong._ He wondered if that sensation was anything like Dave's phobia. He could never put his finger on _what_ was wrong, exactly, but the feeling nagged at him, chewed under the surface and wouldn't leave him alone.

Sometimes it felt suspiciously like guilt. Sometimes it felt suspiciously like horror.

[ ](http://a-stands-for.tumblr.com/post/46468102706)

“Are you brooding again?” Rosester asked, stroking his hair gently. “What can I do to cheer you up?”

He shrugged. “What are the others up to?”

“Last I knew, Jade and Davester had Rose blindfolded and were trying out feathers and ice. And I think Jadester is with Dave.”

“Probably. Most of the cuts on my back feel like the cat-o-nine-tails type.”

She kissed lightly over the wounds he mentioned, and he could feel some of the pain start to ease. “Tell you what,” she cooed. “Why don't I call Davester over here, hmm? He's so good at calming you down.”

John finally let his hands drop to his lap. “Can I be in the middle?”

“Of course! You can have anything you want, John!”

“Okay. Yeah, that... that would be alright.”

It didn't take long for him to arrive, summoned by a little dancing will-o-the-wisp. Rosester was absolutely right, of course, Davester's silver tongue soon quieted the anxieties in his head. And once he was snug between two heated bodies, his mind a wash of pleasure as they moved in sync over his most sensitive places, inside and out, he couldn't have heard his troubled thoughts even if they were screaming.

John made a point to spend most of his time lost in pleasure these days.

They all did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -A. Nonymous  
> (Today the A stands for Annihilation)
> 
>  
> 
> It's finally finished!!! It took a year and a half, but I'm finally done writing this thing! At ~74,000 words, it is officially the longest story I've written yet! And quite possibly the dirtiest, which is saying something. :P
> 
> Let's see, other things to mention... 
> 
> Rosester's Speech Cryptogram Solution:  
> I smell sex and candy and blood z  
> a bcdef ghi jkl mnopq rst uvwxy z
> 
> Chapter Titles  
> [See Me, Feel Me (Touch Me, Heal Me)](http://youtu.be/Sc4REpJ9FsE) \- The Who  
> [Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me](http://youtu.be/SMastE7oBMA) \- U2
> 
> Any comments you'd be willing to spare for this Trickster-porn masterpiece...my... Pornsterpiece... would be greatly appreciated. XD


End file.
